


Princess Aly

by Regina_Northwort



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alucard needed another nickname, Alucard that isn't nice, Blood Drinking, Compulsion, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Godbrand is a dick, Knight/ Maiden dynamics, Right?, Trans woman Alucard, Trevor needs that blood too, Trevor teaches Alucard how to fight, fleeing for their lives, gender stuff, high femme Alucard, knight Trevor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-09-24 03:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 44,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17093492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regina_Northwort/pseuds/Regina_Northwort
Summary: Trevor Belmont finally receives his first independent mission. He's been ordered to escort Lisa Demetriscue of Lupu and her sick daughter out of Wallachia while the Belmont family fights Dracula. He can't imagine a worse assignment. Then everything goes wrong. Can he get Lisa's daughter out alive? And will he survive her appetites?UPDATE- The protagonist's name has been changed because I messed up! This is what I get for not doing basic research.





	1. Old Enemies (Whatever It Takes to Save Her Daughter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You will think me cruel, very selfish, but love is always selfish; the more ardent the more selfish. How jealous I am you cannot know. You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me, and still come with me, and hating me through death and after."  
> \-- Le Fanu, Joseph Sheridan. Carmilla.

Twenty years ago, she had just been Lisa of Lupu. She had arrived at a mysterious, austere, impossible castle on foot, half-starved and desperate. Now, she arrived at a very different building by carriage, handling the horse herself. She opened a plain, but sturdy metal gate. It had just been her then. One woman against the world, the superstition and accusing glances, the people who clutched their rosaries and made signs against the evil eye when she passed. Now, she had a daughter. And she had to protect her from two worlds, not just one.

If she had encouraged Aly to be more independent; to live on her own?

Lisa shook the thought from her head. She had to worry about the future now, not the past. She focused on the manor that sprawled out on the road before her. The Belmont Estate. Lisa squeezed harder on the reins, felt her nails dig into her palms.

It was not a castle. Nothing like the wonders and horrors she had seen. It was just a long, low manor, curled around a courtyard like a sleeping dog. Lisa had to keep the castle out of her mind; keep him out of her mind. If she was found out, if there were diviners among the Belmont family, they would kill her daughter.

Like she would be killed if Lisa had stayed. Like she would be killed if Lisa risked the road without protection. Like she would be killed if Lisa confronted her old lover.

Lisa jerked the reins. The exhausted horse stopped. Lisa sighed. She bent forward and patted the animals neck. She was all nerves. She had protected her daughter from the world, but she needed help to protect her from another. Ironic, to go into the lion's den. But what else could she do?

Servants were coming to greet her. Lisa had a few seconds to spare, no more. She peered back, into the small carriage. A pang struck her heart. Guilt and fear spread cold through her chest. How could she do this? How could she have let this happen?

"We're here?" Aly asked. Her voice was softer than normal, and strained. She held her chest. Her breathing was shallow, barely fluttering the material of her veil.

"Yes," Lisa said, "I'll be back soon. How is the pain?"

"Better, mother."

"Rest, if you can," Lisa said, "I have more of the draught under the seat. Take it if the coughing starts again."

Aly started to laugh, and the noise caught in a gasp. She clutched her chest harder. "I'll be fine."

Lisa nodded. "I- I won't be long."

She slipped off the carriage and called to the approaching servants.

"I am Lisa Demetriscue. I've come to speak with Lord Belmont."

Into the lion's den indeed.

* * *

She was a good liar, Lisa Demetriscue.

 

Trevor's father let her in. A servant took her cloak. She was offered a warm draft of mead to calm her nerves. When she told the Belmonts her story, she spoke with the entrancing cadence of a trained storyteller. She lured them in.

"The devil is after my daughter and I," she said, "we need safe passage out of Wallachia."

"Why have you come to us, good lady? The church, I believe, is versed in these theological matters."

"I do not mean a spiritual threat," Lady Demetriscue said, "I mean the man chases us, wants us dead. Dracula."

Trevor raised an eyebrow. He looked up from cleaning his sword for the first time. The vampire lord Dracula? What could he want with this woman, a soft, older noble with grey streaks in her blond hair and a wild strain at the edges of her eyes.

"Dracula?"

"I have come here," she continued, "Because your reputation precedes you, Lord Belmont. Can you protect my daughter and I?"

"You say Dracula has returned? Now? Dracula disappeared from the world twenty years ago."

"But, we've heard reports of vampires, all over Wallachia. It could be-" Trevor called out. His father silenced him with a glare.

His father returned to considering Lady Demetriscue. Her eyes were on the windows. The sun was still high in the sky, but she seemed to fear the dark. Sensible.

"If Dracula is abroad," Trevor's father said, "Then there are many innocents in danger, not just you. Where is he? Where is his castle?"

Lady Demestriscue gulped. Trevor should have caught it there, the slight hesitance in her voice, the pause. "I- I do not know. We were confronted by one of his generals.

"Then we must hunt him down."

"But, my daughter?! My daughter and I? We need protection. We need to run. I will pay you well for your help."

"And you will have it," Trevor's father said. He waved a hand, "the protection of the Belmont family. My son, Trevor, will be up to the challenge."

"What?" Trevor hissed. He stood up, scrapping the bench he was sitting on backwards. A chance to fight Dracula, and his father wanted him to babysit some noble and her child instead? His hands curled into fists.  


Fifteen minutes later, Trevor walked at his father's heels, red faced and slightly breathless from yelling.

"You're really gonna send me to look after some spinster and her kid, when there's glory to be had?"

"Yes, Trevor," his father said. He considered the blades mounted in the armory, and selected a fine broadsword. He tested its weight. "You are too young. The fact that you think of this as "glory" is reason enough to send you elsewhere."

He resheathed the sword and handed it to his son. "There is something strange going on. This Lady Demestriscue may not be what she seems. Be careful. Get her out of Wallachia. Perhaps you will have finished before we have even found the castle."

"But, this journey could take weeks," Trevor said.

"Then I suggest you pack quickly," his father said. He pressed the scabbard further into Trevor's hands. "I am counting on you. This lady is counting on you." He turned and made to prepare Trevor's older brothers for their own, epic quest.

When his father's back was turned, Trevor made a rude sign at him.

His father snapped his head to Trevor and scowled. "I'm sorry. Would you prefer to stay at home?"

Trevor winced and shook his head.

"If you leave soon, you'll cross the Olt before nightfall."

"Yes sir," Trevor grumbled. He left the armory, stuffed a handful of necessities into a pack, and went to meet Lady Demetriscue in the courtyard.

They had provided her a fresh horse. She was a tawny brown mare Trevor knew, and had ridden before; Aster. Lisa held the reins in a white knuckled grip. She was wrapped in a thick cloak, with an extra rug spread over her legs. It was still fall, but the evenings had been cold of late. Trevor considered the sky. The sun was lower than he liked. They would have to move fast.

Trevor waved. "Lady Demetriscue." He started towards the carriage.

"Lord Belmont."

Trevor couldn't help it. He snorted. "No one calls me that. Trevor, mostly."

"Trevor, then," she said. She extended a hand. Trevor took it, but still used the seat irons to do most of the work as he hauled himself up onto the bench. "Lisa is fine with me. I've always just been Lisa."

"Right," Trevor said. At least she wasn't prissy. "We crossing the Olt River, then?"

Lisa nodded. "We can stay the night in Sandar. There's a decent inn there. And an herbalist I know well."

"Herbalist?" Trevor asked.

Lisa's head snapped up. He saw tension knit into her brows as they folded together. "I may need more supplies. My daughter is ill, and I fear the journey is making matters worse. In fact, if you would."

She pressed the reins into his hands. "I assume you know the road?"

"Well enough," Trevor said. He ridden horses before, just never driven one. Couldn't be that different.

"I will stay with her," Lisa said. She slumped off the seat. "We've been up since dawn. If she or I can rest on the road, it will be a blessing."

Trevor shrugged. The roads were barely better than packed earth winding through the forest. This was going to be a bumpy ride. But there was no sense in having two people up front. He heard Lisa slip into the buggy. He flicked the reins. Being alone suited him fine.

They started west. Trevor kept his eyes and ears alert by habit. This was his first quest or mission or whatever. He wanted to do a good job, even if he was keenly aware that every clomp of Aster's hooves took them further away from Dracula's castle and any kind of action.

Trevor ground his teeth. He was almost as skilled a fighter as his brothers. Why couldn't George have been saddled with this? George liked traveling.

He heard Lisa speaking occasionally and, if he strained his ears, soft and low responses to her questions. The ill daughter, then.

Trevor tilted his head back, curious. She had a very beautiful voice, from the tiny hints of it he could catch. He looked into the dark carriage. Trevor spotted Lisa's pale face. Curled into the corner, her daughter was a slim shadow. All in black, even covering her face. These fancy noble types wore black to mourn, right? Lisa was in it too, under the plain grey cloak. Trevor shrugged. The Belmonts were basically mercenaries with land. They grieved in red like the common folk.

She couldn't be that much older than him. Trevor narrowed his eyes, trying to see more. His hands had gone slack on the reins.

The carriage jerked to one side. He heard the daughter's voice call out in pain as she was jolted.

Trevor swore. He tugged, leading the carriage back onto the road. "Sorry!"

After that, Trevor kept his eyes forward. He just had to get this done with.

A few hours passed in silence, and Trevor wondered if his charges had actually fallen asleep. They were in sight of the Olt River when things went wrong.

At first, Trevor didn't notice. He didn't understand why a cold chill seeped through his cloak, why the hairs on his arms kept standing on end. He stretched out his senses. The road in front of him was deserted. They'd past a handful of carts heading the other way, but now that the sun was starting to set, there were very few people out. There was nothing strange about that, no danger that he could detect. He listened and heard nothing over the sound of the carriage wheels crunching over packed earth.

It occurred to him with a cold wind striking his chest. No sounds. No calling of birds, no snap of twigs from animals in the surrounding undergrowth. The forest around them had gone quiet.

Trevor looked forward to Aster. He saw the whites in her eyes. He patted her mane. The horse could sense something was coming. Trevor could to. He loosened his sword in its sheath. The Olt river was a distant glint of water in the descending sunlight.

Trevor looked over his shoulder. He wanted to call out a warning. But what was he supposed to say? All the birds had gone quiet? How could we explain that he knew in his bones and his blood that something was wrong?

Was it normal for the sunset to cast such a harsh, red glow across the road in front of him?

"Shit," Trevor hissed. He snapped the reins. Aster snorted and surged forward, pulling the carriage as fast as she could manage.

Trevor spared one look back into the sky. Red and orange fire cascaded across the grey clouds.

Trevor flicked the reins again, but Aster was already pulling the cart as fast as she could. The red stained banks of the Olt River were still minutes away.

Trevor swallowed a lump of panic. Was he supposed to pray?

"We, uhh, might have trouble."

His words were drowned out by a roar like thunder. It might have held a word, maybe even a name, but Trevor couldn't make it out. The roar split the sky open. Trevor jerked his head back. Behind the grey clouds there was fire. It shot down at them.

"No!" Lisa called out.

"Christ," Trevor growled. Flames pelted the ground around them. They struck the canvas of the carriage. Trevor smelled burning.

From inside the carriage, Trevor heard that same, soft voice. She was praying.

Trevor ground his teeth. Looks like he was going to have an interesting time of it after all. He wrapped the reins around one arm and took out his sword. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do, but being armed felt proper. It gave him confidence.

Lisa pulled herself out the carriage side window. She used her cloak to pat at the fires. She turned her head back to the sky. It painted her face in bloody colors.

"You can't do this!" she cried out, "Please, you can't."

The sky, apparently, was uninterested in her pleas. The fistfuls of descending fire became columns.

Trevor swore. He was not a bad horseman. But dodging pillars of flame one handed with an exhausted horse going full speed down an uneven dirt road was-- well, it was a fucking lot, okay? He avoided the first bolt of pure fire by inches. The flames left a black mark like a grasping hand on the side of the carriage.

The second pillar came from Lisa's side. Lisa threw herself back into the carriage with a cry that sounded like "Vlad!"

Trevor chanced a glance forward. They were close. The bridge across the Olt was a dozen yards ahead of them. If they could just manage a little longer-- if everything he'd been taught about vampires and running water was true--

"Come on," he growled. "Come on."

A third column rammed into the carriage with the force of a lightning strike.  Trevor heard wood splinter. A fourth column appeared directly in front of the carriage. Aster, already foaming with terror, reared. She broke free of the wooden harness. She galloped to the right. Trevor's arm was jerked along with her. Trevor grunted. He toppled off of the carriage.

He landed on his face. He was dragged forward. Trevor dug his toes into the dirt. He dropped his sword and got his other hand around to pull at the reins.

"Easy," he yelled at Aster. "Easy!"

She finally stopped. Not, Trevor realized, because of his tugging, but in sheer terror. Her wide, white eyes rolled.

Trevor looked back towards the sky. Flames converged into a single, hissing mass that smelled of brimstone. Trevor dropped the reins and starred. His mouth fell open. The fire pulled itself out of the sky like a kraken rises out of the water. It shaped itself into a face. His face. Dracula.

Trevor gulped. He struggled for an appropriately foul curse.

"Oh hell," he managed.

A skull made mostly of sharp teeth leered down on them. It opened its mouth and a whip of fire struck the carriage, setting its roof ablaze.

Trevor shook himself. He was supposed to be a hero or something. He was supposed to be a Belmont. This was his job. He swiped his sword off the ground. He ran forward.

The carriage door slammed open. Two dark figures tumbled out in a cloud of smoke.

"No!" Lisa called. She barreled into Trevor, struggling to keep herself and the girl leaning on her upright. "You can't- you can't fight him."

"Like hell I--"

Trevor was cut short by Lisa pushing her daughter into his arms.

"It's not me he wants," Lisa said, "He won't hurt me. I'll distract him but you must run."

"I thought- I thought I was protecting you."

"No, Trevor. You must save her."

She placed her daughter's arms around Trevor's shoulders. "Go with him, dear. You have to run."

"The fuck is going on?" Trevor demanded.

Lisa spared him one last look. She sighed. "I'm sorry, Trevor."

She looked back at the face of fire writhing in the sky. "Vlad? Vlad, my love? I'm here."

Trevor shook his head. He lifted the daughter-- Aly?-- into his arms. He turned his back on Dracula. On the storm of fire in the sky. This all felt very wrong.

"Vlad? You must stop this!" Lisa cried into the dark.

Aly was light. Her veil tickled the side of Trevor's face. Under the smoke and ash in the air, he caught her scent. She smelled like honeysuckle and bronze. This was a bad time for Trevor to notice. He gritted his teeth and started towards the petrified horse.

She stirred in his hold. Her breath fluttered the veil.

"No. Mother, no!"

She clawed at Trevor's back. Trevor grunted. She was stronger than he expected.

"She's gonna be okay," Trevor lied to her. He squeezed his arms tighter around her, trying to still her squirming. "She'll be okay."

"I can't. Leave her!" Aly cried.

Trevor adjusted his grip. He got a hand free and grabbed the reins of the horse. "We don't have a choice."

"You brute!" she said.

Trevor shrugged. He'd been called worse. "Don't fall off."

He raced for the bridge. Behind him, he heard the roar of fire. It was strong enough he felt the heat on his back. Aly slammed her fists into his shoulders. It might have done something if she had any clue how to throw a punch correctly.

"We can't help her," Trevor said. He stepped onto the bridge.

Aly gasped and slumped into his hold.

Trevor shrugged. Easier to carry now. He rushed across before risking a look back.

The charred skeleton of the carriage stood black on the darkening sky. Otherwise, the road behind them was deserted. No Lisa. No flames in the air. Just a couple of places were the earth was burned.

"Shit," Trevor said.

  


They were a sight when they arrived in Sandar. Trevor had one hand on Aster's reins. With the other, he supported Aly's back. It felt dirty, touching her. The handful of folks they passed in route to the inn gave him suspicious looks. But she was barely conscious, and would fall off Aster's saddle if he wasn't keeping her upright.  She had her veiled face buried in Aster's mane. She hadn't spoken since they'd crossed the bridge. Finally, Aster clomped to a halt. They'd reached the inn.

Aly raised her head. Trevor couldn't see her face, but he had a feeling her eyes were on him anyway. "We should not have left her."

"She told us to," Trevor shrugged.  "What the f- uhhh, I mean, what does Dracula want with you, anyway?"

"I thought you Belmonts were supposed to be heroes," she said bitterly.

Trevor scowled. "Well, I'm new to the job, okay?"

"Evidently."

Aly rose into a sitting position and hissed. She clutched her chest.

"Come on," Trevor said. He offered both hands. "It's gonna be okay. You need to rest."

Aly sniffed and accepted his help off the horse. Small wonder, too. Her black gloved hands were frigidly cold. She stepped haltingly with him into the inn. Trevor looked back, hailed a stable hand, and flicked them a coin to take care of Aster.

Inside, he secured them meals and a room with the money his father had given him for the journey. He would get Aly settled, and then return to the tavern below. Have a drink-- maybe two. Maybe post a message to be sent back to the other Belmont's.

Trevor pictured what he would write.

"Mission gone to crap. Lisa kidnapped-- also maybe in league with Dracula? Need help."

He shook his head. Yeah. Really proving his mettle to his father, with how this day was going.

Trevor left Aly in a chair in their shared room. He noted there was only one bed and grimaced. He'd sleep on the floor if he had to. He was going to stay close to Aly. He wasn't losing both his charges in one day.

He went downstairs, ate a hasty meal, and brought a plate up to their room. What was wrong with her anyway? She didn't seem sick, exactly. More like she was injured and in pain. Lisa had mentioned herbs and medicines. Was Trevor supposed to help with that now? He gulped. The only herbs he knew were wolfsbane and garlic. Not exactly medicinal. Was he going to have to help her apply salves, or change clothes, or get downstairs to use the privy?

Trevor stopped on the stairs, suddenly red faced. That was not how he was supposed to be thinking about a noble lady he was tasked with protecting. The fuck was wrong with him?

Maybe what he needed wasn't a drink but a very cold bath.

Trevor strode, stone-faced, into their shared room. Aly's head jerked up. He winced. He was supposed to knock first, wasn't he? She was still seated at the desk. She fidgeted with something in her lap. One of her fine black gloves, Trevor realized. She jerked it back onto her slender hand, but not before Trevor noticed her skin. The tiny bit he saw at her wrist wasn't just pale, it was as grey and lifeless as the ash in a dead hearth.

"Belmont!" she said.

"Sorry," Trevor said. He ran a finger through his hair. "Shoulda knocked. Got food for you."

"Bring it here."

He set the plate on the table.

"Belmont," she said again. Her voice was softer. She sang the first syllable, almost teasingly, and let the second drag out into a whisper.

Trevor gulped. Something in her tone turned his face red again.

"Lift my veil, Belmont."

Trevor sank to his knees before the rational part of his brain had even processed her request, or rather the command that she phrased with such delicacy that it sounded like he had a choice. He slipped a hand under the obscuring, draping black cloth that concealed her face.

He averted his eyes and lifted the cloth.

"Look at me."

Trevor took a deep breath, trying to get his pulse under control. Why was he all nerves all of a sudden? What was it about her voice that dragged his head back to look at her?

Trevor raised his head. He gasped. She was the most beautiful woman he'd even seen, with her carefully coiffed golden hair, her regal nose and soft lips. Her impossibly pale, almost waxen skin.

"You- you're not hu--"

His eyes caught on hers, warm and entrancing as molten gold. Trevor struggled for a sliver of a second. It was like a sheet of glass was being pressed over his mind. He pushed against it. He tried to resist.

"Belmont," she said once more. He heard the smile in her voice as it slipped between her fangs. The glassy surface of the compulsion won out.

And Trevor was lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh *looks nervously up at the fic* So this is something that's been beating around in my brain for a while. There's some art of Alucard, especially for the games, where he is so amazingly femme. This is not intended to be some complex meditation on gender and sexuality. I just asked my brain, well, how much would I have to change to let Alucard be in charge? 
> 
> Turns out, it required rewriting everything that happened since 1455. Everyone is alive! Lisa! Trevor's entire family! There's a very different prophecy floating around. Lisa has a new last name. Trevor doesn't have the attitude (or the scar over his eye) yet. Dracula is back with all of the fire and flames! 
> 
> And Aly, well, Aly was raised by humans. She doesn't understand her powers. She's never met another vampire before. What will the dhampir who can twist humans around her finger learn from the hunter who knows every gruesome thing about vampires? Well, not much while she's got him under her compulsion. :P


	2. Drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I remember everything about it-- with an effort. I see it all, as divers see what is going on above them, through a medium, dense, rippling, but transparent. There occurred that night what has confused the picture, and made its colours faint. I was all but assassinated in my bed, wounded here," she touched her breast, "and never was the same since."  
> "Were you near dying?"  
> "Yes, very-- a cruel love-- strange love, that would have taken my life. Love will have its sacrifices. No sacrifice without blood."  
> \-- Le Fanu, Joseph Sheridan. Carmilla.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING- misgendering, dead names

Trevor woke up with morning light shining in on his face. He blinked. He had overslept. He scanned the room as his eyes adjusted. Whatever this place was, it was decidedly not Belmont manor.

The past day came flooding back to him with the force of a hammer strike. Trevor put his hands over his head. Lisa. The carriage ride. The rain of fire. Dracula. Aly. Reaching the inn. And then--

Trevor pressed his hands harder into his forehead. Something had happened. At the inn. He had seen something he shouldn't have; something that filled him with shame. Something to do with Aly. But it was all slipping away from him now, like a dream fades in the daylight. Maybe that was all it had been. Just a dream. 

He tried to stretch and found himself looser than he expected. He was also naked. Had he bathed last night? That was-- unusual. He raised his hands into the air and then winced at a small spasm of pain between his neck and shoulders. He remembered being dragged off the carriage by a panicked Aster. He'd favor that arm for a little while, let the muscles heal.

Trevor shook his head. He had already overslept. He had a job to do, and he'd rather not fail both halves of it. He slid out of bed. His clothes were in a pile on the desk beside the bed. He slipped them on just as someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," Trevor said.

The door opened slowly. Aly stood in the doorway.

Trevor fidgeted with the collar of his tunic, wondering if he had gotten it on properly. Aly was a seamless, flawless shadow. This was the first time Trevor had seen her upright. She was leaning against the door, but seemed basically steady on her feet. She was almost as tall as Trevor.

"Feeling better?" Trevor asked.

"Yes," Aly said. Her nod sent the veil swishing. "I've procured us a second horse. You should eat something."

"Right. If we make good time today, we'll be at the border by--"

"No!"

Trevor raised an eyebrow.

He heard Aly wince. Either the yelling had hurt her chest, or she'd regretted the outburst. From the way she clutched her bosom, Trevor was guessing both. 

"I will not- cannot- leave Wallachia."

Trevor put his head in his hands. "Not this again."

"My mother is at a vampire's mercy," Aly said, "I will not abandon her."

"Okay, look," Trevor said. He prepared his best arguing voice. But no reasons or retorts came to mind. His brain still felt sluggish, like he wasn't fully awake yet. 

"Belmont?"

"Go ahead and ready the horses then," Trevor said, "We can talk after I've eaten."

Twenty minutes later, Aly met him at the stables. She was seated side saddle on her own mare, a grey horse with white stockings. It was an inappropriately elegant picture for the journey they intended. Although, the two of them apparently had very different journeys in mind.

"Alright," Trevor said, "Look. Your mother had very specific instructions. She had placed you under my protection. And if that means I have to drag you across the border, well-"

"The situation has changed," Aly said. She let Trevor saddle up, and then started down the road. 

Trevor gritted his teeth and followed her. "Right. And how, exactly, is putting you and I in danger going to stop Dracula?"

Aly twisted her head back at the name. She put out a finger for quiet, and then scanned the deserted village road around them. 

"How is a prissy noble girl like you going to stop Dracula?" Trevor demanded. 

Aly sniffed. "Isn't that your family's destiny, or something? Wouldn't you rather be tracking down his castle and fighting him," she paused, and Trevor heard a smug smile slip into her voice, "Like your brothers?"

Trevor felt the leather reins in his hands stretch. He looked down and forcibly loosened his grip. It helped distract him, calm the rage pounding in his head. 

"We need to figure out where his castle is," Aly said. 

"You," Trevor said, "Need to get out of the country."

"Do you really believe something like a border would stop Dracula?"

Trevor paused. He considered. "No. I- I guess I don't."

"So, if nowhere is safe," Aly said, "Then your best, and only option to follow my mother's wishes is for us to keep moving. And we can ask after the whereabouts of the castle as we go."

Trevor opened his mouth. He closed it again. He narrowed his eyes. This was absolute and utter idiocy. And yet. He couldn't deny he was picturing it; finding the castle ahead of his siblings; storming the gates surrounded by other, proud Belmonts; an approving nod from his father. 

"We can head North," Trevor said at last. 

It wasn't until well after they'd left the city that Trevor remembered his intention to post a message about Lisa's fate. Things were slipping through his mind like a poorly mended net. What was wrong with him?

 

Aly, it seemed, shared some of her mother's fondness for herbs and medicinal plants. She'd occasionally point out shrubs as they passed and, when they broke for lunch, insisted on examining a species of fungus instead of eating.

Trevor rolled his eyes and focused on chewing through his own rations. Was he being irresponsible, letting her skip meals when she was still, clearly injured? Probably. But Trevor had a funny feeling that he wasn't going to win another argument with her. He was having trouble focusing. The jerky he chewed, the sounds of the forest around them, the meager sunlight playing on his face; it all seemed dimmed somehow, like he was viewing it from behind glass, or water. 

Was he getting sick?

Trevor grimaced. This wasn't a good time to fall ill.

"What is he like?" Aly asked when they were back on the road.

Trevor lifted his head. He heard her words, but they made no sense, not with the solemn way she spoke. "Who?"

Aly led her horse a little closer, so that she could whisper the name. "Dracula?"

Trevor shook his head. "That's the wrong question to ask."

"Why?"

"It implies that he's-- I dunno, a person, or something."

"How would you describe him?" Aly asked. Her voice was still just a whisper. 

Trevor shrugged. "A mad warlord with a thing for impalement and drinking blood. A monster."

Aly shivered. Trevor remembered that he was describing the person who'd just kidnapped her mother. Shit. "But, uhh, he kinda settled out later. Kinda."

"How do you mean?"

"You know. He went sorta quiet. Less murdering. We thought, maybe he'd left the world, or something. No trace of him or his castle for twenty years."

Aly went completely still. 

Trevor fidgeted with the reins. "So, why's he after you, anyway?"

"Has he killed her?" Aly asked, ignoring the question.

"I don't know," Trevor said, annoyed now. "If you had, I dunno, any information to share about why he's after you two-"

"But, you think he has," Aly said, very quietly, "You think he's killed her. And all of this is useless."

Trevor grumbled. "I didn't say that." He dropped the subject and refocused his attention on the road. 

They reached a new town that afternoon, well before dark. The city provided a guise of safety, and Trevor accepted in gratefully, after so much nervousness over the road, Aly's health, and his own. Later, Trevor could recall snatches of events. Holding open the curtain of the inn so Aly could enter. Grooming down Aster and the new mare, Erzsebet, himself. Ordering meals. 

The rest of the evening eluded him. It was just a vague feeling of unease, and other things underneath it that Trevor didn't want to inspect too closely; desire, shame, satisfaction. What he felt made no sense. 

And as their journey fell into a sort of routine, Trevor found himself slipping into an inexplicable kind of illness, one he couldn't put words to. It wasn't a fever or coughing pangs, but lethargy and a dulling of his senses. He felt almost like he was drowning in open air, that he would rise to the surface for a moment, seeing and thinking clearly, panicked and gasping, and find no basis for his condition. His body was whole, except for the persistent, stabbing ache where he had pulled his shoulder. 

What was wrong with him?

* * *

 

"What have you done?" Lisa croaked.

"You're up." Vlad lifted his head. He'd been resting his chin on his hands, so perfectly acting the lovesick caregiver that it turned Lisa's stomach. "Here, take this."

He crossed to a side table and poured a draught for her. He held it out for Lisa. Lisa smelled the brew-- athlae root, echinacea, honey. She turned her nose away.

"Do you remember the recipe? It was your own," Vlad said, "You've inhaled a lot of smoke."

Lisa stared him down. She couldn't set fire to her eyes or summon the spirits of shades. She hoped her gaze burned him anyway. She tried to speak, and coughed instead.

"I wish you no harm," Vlad said, "Despite how you have conspired with my enemies- how you've deceived me."

"Deceived you?!" 

"I know I have a son, Lisa. You cannot hide him from me anymore."

"You-" Lisa said, "You know nothing."

Vlad's lip curled. "I know your pain. I felt it-- across dimensions. Your grief."

He encompassed Lisa's black dress with a wave of his hand. He pulled something from his breast pocket. Lisa hissed. He held a small ring, gold with a ruby set into it. Her ring.

Lisa tried to protest. She coughed instead.

"With whom did you replace me, Lisa?" he asked, "And how in the nine realms did you convince him that Alucard was his?"

Lisa took in a low, shallow breath. Her lungs ached. She considered Vlad. He was right at the edge of another, wrathful episode. She remembered him like this; even before she'd suspected her pregnancy, his fits of rage had frightened her, had drawn her away from him. If he was here, in the castle, speaking with her, then he could not also be burning through the countryside, hunting for Aly. 

She had seen humanity, empathy and good in him once. Was it still there, under the rage he displayed now?

Lisa sighed. She reached out a hand and accepted the draught he offered. She could tell him some part of the truth. Maybe she owed him that.

 

His name was Joseph Demetriscue. And as the second son, he had never thought he'd have to produce an heir. He was old, when a fever took his brother and nephew. He mourned for them. He prayed for their immortal souls and commended them to Saint Paul. Then he'd put aside his habit and reluctantly returned to earthly concerns.

Lisa of Lupu was an old friend from the same double monastery, before her interest in medicine had led her further afield. When she had reappeared, desperate, he had invited her to his house as such.

Had he entranced and seduced and allured her, the way Vlad had? Of course not. He was three decades her senior. He had just been kind-- and a little in awe of her.

Vlad chuckled at that. "And, when your pregnancy became undeniable?"

"I told him I had slept with no man," Lisa said.

"And he simply accepted that?" Vlad said. His amusement seemed to be warring with his scientist's indignation at such a flagrant rejection of evidence.

Lisa shrugged. "He was a priest. I think he believed--" her words got swallowed up by another cough. She was hacking up phlegm now, a sign her lungs were clearing. She allowed herself an unladylike moment and spat onto Vlad's floor. Her condition was his fault, after all.

Vlad didn't seem to notice. He processed Lisa's half-formed explanation. "Wait. You mean-- did he think?" 

"He saw the birth as a miracle," Lisa said, very quietly.

Vlad threw back his head and cackled. "Immaculate conception, then?" 

Lisa sighed. It hadn't even been the worst of her lies to people that she loved. But it hurt, letting Joseph believe in such a thing. Now the man was gone. She would never get to explain, to thank him properly and ask his forgiveness. Even if she believed that he lived on among angels, she knew she was not destined for such a place herself. She would never get to make things right.

Vlad did not notice her pain and guilt. He kept laughing. "How wicked. How deeply fitting, Tricking a priest into believing. The child of the devil."

Once, a long time ago, Lisa had argued with him. He was not the devil. He was not an incarnation of evil. He was a man, still a man under all of the dark he had shrouded himself with like a grand cloak. Now, she couldn't argue. He had tried to hurt her daughter. 

"But, that is the least of your deceptions, no?"

Lisa gulped. She'd known this was coming, and she still dreaded it. She always dreaded it. This was Aly's choice and her story. It was not Lisa's place to tell. "You don't understand."

"I do not understand?" he demanded. He stood and called back to the door. "Godbrand!"

To Lisa's horror, a familiar figure stepped into the room.

"Oh, you bastard," Lisa said. She clawed herself upright and pointed a finger at the red haired vampire. "How dare you show your face!"

Godbrand's lip curled. He looked at Vlad. "Well, she's certainly spirited."

Vlad considered him cooly. He folded his arms. "I see you two are already acquainted."

Lisa tore her eyes from Godbrand and gaped at Vlad. "He broke into my house, accosted me, and tried to kill my daughter."

"See, when you put it like that--" Godbrand started.

"How would you put it?" Vlad asked.

Godbrand ran a hand through his matted hair. "Just following orders. You told me, if I found her, bring her to you. She resisted, and then."

"You grabbed me. You put your hands over my mouth," Lisa said.

"Just to stop the yelling," Godbrand said, putting up his hands.

Vlad sighed. He seemed almost tired. "And then what happened?"

"She was trying to protect me," Lisa said.

Godbrand sneered. "I got attacked by a boy in a dress."

Lisa spluttered. Her lungs complained at so much yelling, and she hacked, trying to clear them.

"And, not a human, neither. He was strong. Almost like one of us."

"You don't know," Lisa croaked, "What you're talking about."

Godbrand stepped towards her. "I know a crossbreed when I see one."

Lisa snarled. She spat phlegm onto his bare chest.

"Oh you fiesty bi-" Godbrand started. He surged forward, one long nailed hand raised. Lisa flinched. 

Vlad came between them. "Godbrand!" he snapped. He gripped his arm and brought him up short, his disgusting nails an inch from Lisa's face. He threw Godbrand back, towards the door. "That's enough. Dismissed."

The door slammed behind him. Lisa slumped back into the bed. She was shivering. 

Vlad put a hand on his forehead. He sighed again. "I sent my generals across the country. Of all the ones to find you--"

"Coward," Lisa said, "You should have sought me out yourself."

Vlad looked down at her. "Yes. If I had, Alucard would be dead now."

"Her name is Aly."

He arched an eyebrow. "It's a clever little disguise."

"It isn't a disguise, Vlad. It’s her name."

"You're a cunning woman. I have seen my kind conceal their nature in a myriad of ways. But the veneer of the opposite sex?" He smirked.

"I remember thinking that you understood all the world's mysteries," Lisa said, "But you know nothing."

"I know," Vlad said, "That you have done everything in your power to conceal Alucard from the world. And from me."

He stood up. "And it will come to nothing."

* * *

 

Trevor was sinking. He held out as long as he could. He needed to be strong. He was supposed to protect Aly. Her mother, and his father, were expecting him to be strong. He was grateful Aly said nothing as he kept sleeping later. He'd wake in the light, blurry and exhausted, and she'd have already made their arrangements. 

She never complained. Not at the harshness of the road, nor at the increasing frequency of stops. She was stalwart. Trevor had to admit, he was impressed. 

She was hard to read under the veil. But sometimes, he had the sense she was staring at him. He wondered what she saw. Did she realize how rapidly he was weakening? How little he could protect her, if Dracula came again? Was she sneering at him and his inabilities?

By the fourth day of travel, Trevor didn't care. His memory was more gaps than recollections now, and the world around him seemed locked in perpetual fog. He was so tired, like he had been ceaselessly treading water. He couldn't surface. He couldn't clear his lungs. He sank forward in the saddle, and then pitched down. 

"Belmont?!"

A hand, strong and reassuring but still very cold, caught him. Aly pulled him back and kept him upright. 

He tried to speak. His voice sounded distant and distorted. "I can't. I'm so weak. A failure."

And to his shame, the roles were inverted. Aly kept him upright and in the saddle as they finally arrived at the next town. She was supposed to be the ill and weak one-- he was supposed to be the hero and protector. Why was he failing?

Trevor's impressions were incoherent after that. The warmth of entering the inn. Being carried up the stairs. He was wrapped in a blanket and tucked into bed like a child. Aly's soft, low voice over everything. "It's going to be okay. You're doing a good job. You're going to be okay, Belmont."

And the way she said the word, Belmont, echoed slowly back through his mind. Bel. Mont. Sung, made enticing, his name like a spell cast. His family name, a long line of proud warriors and hunters of evil. The word and the way it was spoken stretched away from each other in Trevor's mind. They became opposites; contradictions. Darkness and light. Good and evil. Female and male. Human and monster. All of things things were incoherent axioms around Trevor and he was freely floating between them, sinking down, down into nothing and into death.

Belmont. Bel. Mont. Belmont. He was a fucking Belmont. Was he really going to sink away under the weight of something he couldn't understand? No. Trevor was going to kick and scream and fight it every step of the way. He gritted his teeth and flipped off the darkness he was sinking into. Finally finding that reserve of inner fortitude, Trevor pushed up, swimming with leaden limbs and burning lungs, fighting to surface.

Far above him, he saw a blurry face. It was grey, and the eyes were shimmering gold. 

Trevor fought harder. His still tender arm spasmed and complained as he forced himself up, out of death and blurry nothingness. He was close. He could see the light in those golden eyes. He was nearing his own body, life and strength. He could hear Aly's voice, garbled as though passing through water.

Trevor slammed into the surface. His fists and face collided with something solid. 

Compulsion, Trevor realized with a shock. That was where this had all started. Something had interfered with his mind. Someone was trying to drown him. His family pride surged within him. As though any dark magic could keep a Belmont under its thrall. He wound up his hand and brought it hard into the clear barrier above him. It rippled, more like glass than like water.

"Get the fuck out of my mind," Trevor snarled. He punched again. And again. He felt his knuckles bruise, and the impacts travel up his body. He gritted his teeth and kept slogging. A crack formed in the center of the glass. He struck it, over and over till his hand felt like it was breaking. 

Finally, Trevor smashed through the barrier. The glass shattered into infinite, tiny crystals, and then scattered into mist. Trevor tore himself through the fog. He resurfaced in his own mind with and surged forward. 

"Be strong for me, love," she was saying. "You've given me so much, and I only need a little mo--" She broke off with a gasp.

Trevor's hand found something cold and soft. He opened his eyes with an effort. 

His hand was pressed into Aly's cheek. Her uncovered face was beautiful and strange and contorted in horror. Her eyes met Trevor's. She flinched, tore herself away from his touch, and covered her mouth with both hands. As though he could have missed her fangs.

"Oh," Trevor said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to a fic where everyone had done terrible, terrible things. Except Trevor. Trevor is innocent in all of this. Which is hilarious to me.
> 
> So you may be wondering. WHY IS DRACULA TRYING TO KILL HIS KID? Good question. I will answer it. Eventually. : P 
> 
> I literally cannot think of a worse way for Aly to learn more about her father. Except possibly for last chapter when he was trying to set her on fire. Also, imagine having the first vampire you ever meet be Godbrand. *shudders* (If your fav is Godbrand I AM SO SORRY!)
> 
> I am not ready for the next chapter. My heart isn't ready.


	3. Calamaties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes there came a sensation as if a hand was drawn softly along my cheek and neck. Sometimes it was as if warm lips kissed me, and longer and longer and more lovingly as they reached my throat, but there the caress fixed itself.  
> \-- Le Fanu, Joseph Sheridan. Carmilla.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING- Misgendering, dead names (thanks Dracula), sexual violence/ non-con, drinking (thanks Trevor)

_But should the devil have a son._

Lisa had spoken of Christ and the Abrahamic god. Vlad knew older stories, drew meaning from them. When he had cast bones into the fire and read their cracks, they had spoken a name. When he had asked after the threat, what would be his undoing and overthrow the order of hell that was his throne. And what had the bones told him.

_Alucard._

His memory was long. A tapestry of crimson, black and grey that spanned lifetimes of incoherent suffering and rage. And in all of that tempestuous dark, Lisa was a single, golden strand, a shock of color that Vlad thought had been lost from his life at the start. Just a brief flash of light, that threatened to split the whole tapestry apart.

Seeing her again and finally understanding what she had done, it rusted the gold in his mind. She was Thetis, the nymph who would bear a child greater than his father. She had betrayed him, had hid this danger for twenty years, until the child had grown into a looming threat in Vlad's mind.

_His foil, unmaker, opposite._

Vlad stretched his hands forward. The floating shards of a mirror solidified in front of him. He saw his own face in the glassy, magic surface. Did Alucard look like him? His black hair, the lines of treachery and weariness worn into his face, his cold eyes and harsh, strong brows. It should never have come to this. He never should have let Lisa go.

Vlad cursed his reflection. He slammed his hand into the mirror and it shattered.

He needn't be the one to do this thing. He had powers at his control. He would never have to see Alucard's face, hear a scream or a last plea, see fear in eyes that he envisioned being blue like Lisa's. It merely needed to be done. He had given up everything in the pursuit of immortality. What was one more little life on his conscience?

Vlad extended his hands again. The shards of the mirror flashed black, and then glittered with red eyes.

* * *

 

"Oh shit," Trevor said. Sensory information flooded back to him. He squeezed his eyes shut. The fading sunlight was too bright, the covers around his bare chest too coarse, the smell of honeysuckle itched unbearably in his nose. Trevor shook his head, struggling to adjust. Near him, someone shifted on the mattress.

He looked up. Aly flinched and curled into the corner of the bed. She buried her face in her knees. A strand of hair had come loose from her tresses, and fell forward over the bit of her forehead that Trevor could still see.

"The fuck did you do to me?" Trevor growled. He sat up and the muscles between his shoulder and neck spasmed. It was a peculiar, sharp little pain. With his sense returned, it felt almost like he'd been pricked by one, no, two needles.

"Y-you fed off me," Trevor said.

Aly nodded into her knees.

"You fucking bit me!" he said, "You hypnotized me, and you bit me."

Aly shrunk visibly under his shouting. 

"Look at me," Trevor said.

Aly slowly raised her head. She still had both hands clamped over her mouth.

Trevor grabbed her wrists. Aly trembled in his grip. When he pulled at her hands, she moved with him. "Please," she said.

"You're one of them," Trevor said. 

"Please don't kill me," she said, "It was a mistake, trying to sink you under."

"Like hell it was," Trevor said, "I'm a Belmont. I resist that shit."

It was so strange, finally seeing her face. She was entrancing and alien, with the sharp nose and thin, grey lips, and fear in her strange, gold gaze as she met his eyes.

"I didn't mean to drag you so far. I just needed to heal."

Trevor squeezed her wrists. "You have five seconds to start talking sense, vampire."

"I'm not a-- nevermind," she said, "I'm Dracula's daughter."

"Fuck," Trevor said. He dropped Aly's wrists and staggered out of the bed. 

"Belmont?" 

"I'm out," Trevor said. He stood up, and white, glowing spots flickered across his vision. He wasn't exhausted exactly. Nor was he in pain. Just a little light headed. He snatched up his tunic and forced it on. His pack was beside the door. He grabbed it. He found his whip and sword in the corner. 

He slammed the door behind him.

 

What had his father said? Too young. He wasn't ready. Trevor hated when the old bastard was right. He considered the watery, piss colored stuff in the bottom of his flagon. 

The voices in his head were still coherent. He definitely needed more.

He'd thought to just head home. Was he ready to admit that he had failed? Maybe after another drink. 

As he'd fled the inn, left town and headed east, incoherent memories had floated back to him. He blamed the smell of honeysuckle that somehow lingered in his tunic. It gave him an impression that she was still nearby. It brought back a string of sensations; laying half curled on a bed, cold fingers running through his hair, working slowly down to his neck, someone speaking in soft, low purrs into his ear, a kiss near his collarbone that was so unbearably sweet that he barely noticed when it started to sting.

Trevor shuddered. He reached a hand up and pressed his fingers to two tiny bumps under his collar. They were still tender. More ale, he decided. He needed more ale.

He didn't want to think about being half-naked and barely conscious in the arms of Dracula's daughter. He didn't want to fathom why he was still alive, why she hadn't sucked him dry, why she'd bathed him, wrapped him in blankets, washed his clothes. 

Trevor shook his head. He tipped the tankard back and drained the last drops. He looked around blurrily, hoping to catch the barman's eye so he could get more. Instead, he saw a breathless looking farmer barrel through the half-open door.

The man staggered up to the bar and rasped a request for a drink. A tankard of ale was supplied, and he downed it before speaking. Around the room, a handful of other, weary drinkers raised their heads. Trevor didn't. He could smell trouble in the air. He leaned back into the pleasant, slightly unhinged feeling the cheap ale had left in his limbs. 

"There's something out there!" he said once his throat was sufficiently wetted. "A whole lot of-- monsters! Devils!"

"Sure you haven't been at the drink already?" the barman asked lightly.

A few patrons shifted nervously in their seats. 

"I know what I saw," the farmer said. He gulped and cast a wide eyed glance around the room.

A high pitched squall ripped through the chattering calm of the tavern. Trevor jerked his head back and almost fell out of his chair. He fumbled for his sword. He knew that sound in his blood. Demons.

Why were there demons here?

Trevor got to his feet. The alcohol suddenly hit, and he swayed slightly. He reached out a hand to steady himself on the table. 

Around him, other people were rising. Someone screamed. A burly man rammed Trevor's shoulder as he passed, running for the door. 

Trevor blinked. The door was ripped off its hinges, and a set of red eyes leered into the dingy tavern. 

"Alright everyone, I happen to be a trained-" Trevor started. He hiccuped. 

Whatever reassurances he might have made were drowned out. The man who'd ran for the door screamed as a set of long, lethally sharp claws reached for him. He kept his innards by inches and stumbled back into the room. 

The barman opened a back door and ran. The patrons followed him.

The demon tore itself into the tavern. Two more followed it, hissing. They sniffed the air. 

Trevor stumbled towards the back exit, his sword drawn. He narrowed his eyes. It was difficult to make out what was going on in the dark. A demon lunged. Trevor raised his sword. It flew past him and landed in front of the bar, sealing him in.

What was going on? These lowly demons were little more than bloodlust and animalistic instincts. Why had none of them jumped him yet?

"Right, bastards. We gonna do this, or?"

Stupid question. He didn't even see the demon leap. Trevor was simply knocked to the floor. His sword rolled out of his hand as he was pinned under sharp claws. A set of red eyes leered into his own. 

"Where is he?"

Okay. Trevor wasn't that drunk, right? He blinked up at the hissing demon. These things could talk? 

He noticed a small, reptilian creature crawling up the demon's shoulder. It setted, curling its hooked tail around its scrawny, crimson legs and considered Trevor with beady black eyes. 

"Where is Alucard?" the tiny demon squeaked at him.

An imp, Trevor realized blurrily. Not a grunt demon meant for fighting. Imps were spies, messengers, and occasionally the voice pieces of powerful demon lords. This one held itself with a smug superiority that suggested the later.

Trevor groaned, "Uhh, I think you got the wrong man." On a couple of levels.

"Where is Dracula's son?" the demon demanded.

"Dracula's son?" Trevor slurred.

"I'm here."

Trevor rolled his eyes. "Fucking great."

He craned his neck, and caught a glimpse of Aly at the tavern door. She had her hands in the air. Heroics didn't suit her. He could see her trembling, and the motion of keeping her arms raised seemed to be too much. They were slumping back down. 

"Grab him!" the imp squawked. 

The other two demons converged on Aly. They grabbed her, holding her arms out. Aly gasped and sank to her knees.

The imp uncurled. It padded off the demon still pinning Trevor, and moved to Aly.

"This?" it asked, "This is Dracula's son?"

"I'm not- just let the human go. I'll come with you."

"You're not?" the imp demanded. It flapped its tiny wings and rose into the air, getting to Aly's eye level. "You're not him?" It raised its claws and swiped the veil off Aly.

Aly winced. The swipe left four small gashes on her cheek. She struggled against the demons and dipped her head, trying to hide her face.

Trevor gulped. He looked around the room. Everything was slightly blurry, but he was pretty sure the small slice of moonlight on the tavern floor near him was the sword he'd dropped. He just needed to reach it.

"We were told of a disguise," the imp said, "But you're dressed like a woman."

Aly ducked her head further. She was shaking.

"Are you the warrior Alucard?" the imp demanded. "This is a simple question, no? Are you the one destined to kill Dracula?"

The demon above Trevor had shifted its weight, and there was only a little pressure on Trevor's arms now. Trevor stretched out his hand. His numb fingers brushed the handle of his sword.

"I-" Aly started.

"Let's see," the imp snarled, "Show me his chest."

"What?!" Aly said. She tore herself out of one of the demon's claws, leaving fabric and skin in its grasp. "No."

She was strong, Trevor conceded. Of course she was. But she had no idea what to do with that strength. She tried to pull her other arm free. The first demon knocked her to the floor.

Trevor gritted his teeth. The demon above him had turned its head to watch. Trevor felt the skin on his arm scrape off under its claws. He got his hand around the hilt of the sword. Right. Now he just had to get this hulking fiend off of him. And fight two more. When his brain felt like someone had kicked a beehive in it.

From the other side of the room, Trevor heard fabric ripping. Buttons rolled across the floor.

She should have stayed away. Wouldn't common sense alone have told her to leave him be?

Trevor sighed. All right. Fighting time. What would sober Trevor do? Get another drink, probably. Nope. Had to fight that impulse. 

"A boy then," the imp said, "with the injuries Lord Dracula described. Good. Kill him."

Trevor sighed. He brought both legs up and slammed the demon on top of him forward. Surprised, it rolled over and off him. Trevor sat up, sword in hand.

Trevor was alert enough to register that they had ripped Aly’s bodice from her chest. He was polite enough to leave it at that. "Leave her alone you bastards," Trevor said. He swung his sword around and neatly beheaded the demon that had pinned him.

The other two snarled. One of them charged at Trevor. Trevor lurched out of the way.

"Kill him!" the imp screeched. "Kill him! Kill him!"

It wasn't talking about Trevor, he blurrily realized. The demon still on top of Aly raised a clawed hand. 

For once, Trevor's reflexes didn't fail him. He reached for his whip. It unfurled easily in his hand and the flick of his arm that brought it forward was as natural and easy as if his father was there, at his shoulder, guiding him.

His whip struck the demon's chest. He'd been taught that these things were spawned from hellfire. They contained a spark of it in their bodies. Trevor had always assumed that was some metaphysical, church nonsense. But when his whip struck into the demon's chest, the tear it made revealed fire. The demon screeched as it exploded. 

Huh. Exploding demons. An imp dead set on killing Aly. And some name that sounded vaguely familiar. What had Lisa said? The man chases us, wants us dead. Dracula. Apparently that hadn't been a lie. 

"Belmont, look out!" Aly cried.

Trevor turned just in time. He raised his arm, and the demon struck his blade instead of his throat. He sidestepped another swipe of claws and staggered backward, still trying to control his dizzy momentum.

Trevor pushed his blade into the demon's claws, sliding in, hoping to cut into its hand. The demon hissed and ducked under the blade. Trevor stumbled forward, sloppy and drunk. Claws caught his right leg in a searing slice. The pain did nothing to help his balance, and Trevor fell forward, rolling over the demon's back. He landed back on the floor.

The demon rounded on him. It gurgled. Trevor gulped. That couldn't be good. A spark of fire formed in its open maw. Trevor tried to stand and discovered that his right leg was a mass of pins, needles and sharp pains. Putting weight on it caused him to crumple again. He stared up at the mass of fire the demon was about to unleash.

Something struck the demon with the sound of wood splintering. It twisted its head and Aly brought the chair down again. 

Trevor didn't wait. He lunged forward on his hands and knees. He caught the demon at the throat with his sword. Aly hissed and leapt back from a sudden spurt of blood.

"Fools!" a tiny, high pitched voice called. "Resisting Dracula's will! You will come to nothing! Nothing!"

Trevor raised his whip. It was a small target and he was barely conscious. The blessed tongue of the whip struck the ceiling eeves a foot from where the imp hovered. The imp flew out of the door with a final cackle.

"Oh god."

Behind him, Trevor heard a sob. 

Aly stumbled away from the felled demon. She crumpled into herself. Trevor blinked and slowly processed what he was seeing. Her skin, he realized. Her creepy grey vampire skin. Because they'd ripped the bodice of her dress to shreds. 

Except, her skin wasn't just grey. Trevor's mouth fell open. He crawled over to her. Somewhere, his shame was screaming at him that he wasn't supposed to be looking at all. That was drowned out by a combination of curiosity and horror. 

At first, he thought they were burns. Her bare back looked like ink stained vellum. She had two massive blots of black and purple, molted skin, one blooming from the center of her lower back and the other near her right shoulder blade. Wounds, Trevor realized. They were still open; five raw, dark red puncture wounds in the center of each mass.

Trevor winced as he sat down beside her, cautious of his injured leg. He fidgeted with the clasp of his cloak. Aly gasped and shrank away when he moved towards her. Trevor draped the navy blue material of his cloak over her back.

"Sorry it reeks," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear god I rewrote this four times. Super uncomfortable. Super involved. Drac's motivations. Aly's agency in her own story (feels weird to write this character as a damsel in distress. Real weird). Trevor's utter bewilderment and drunk bumbling.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Love to folks leaving comments and kudos. And thanks for the patience as I blunder through this story.


	4. Respite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We are in God's hands: nothing can happen without his permission, and all will end well for those who love him. He is our faithful creator; He has made us all, and will take care of us."
> 
> "Creator! Nature!" said the young lady in answer to my gentle father. "And this disease that invades the country is natural. Nature. All things proceed from Nature--don't they? All things in the heaven, in the earth, and under the earth, act and live as Nature ordains? I think so."  
> \-- Le Fanu, Joseph Sheridan. Carmilla.
> 
> Content warning- misgendering (blame Godbrand this time)

"You haven't run away yet," Aly rasped.

She was shaking, still recovering from a bought of dry sobs that sent the fur edge of Trevor's cloak trembling. That must hurt like hell with her injuries, right? He finally understood what Lisa had meant, when she'd said her daughter was ill. A distorted version of Aly's own voice filtered back to him. "I just needed to heal." He'd been so angry he hadn't heard it.

"Can't run," Trevor said, "Not on this leg."

He fumbled with his boot, managed to get it off, and rolled up his ripped pant leg to inspect the gashes on his calf. 

"Are you going to kill me then?" Aly asked, barely a whisper. "Behead me like you did to these- things?"

"Staking is more my style, actually."

"Oh."

"But I'm fresh out of wood and, well, Dracula has it out for you. Friend of my enemy is my enemy, right?"

"I don't think that's how-" Aly's words warbled off into a whimper as she gingerly sat up. The hand she clutched the cloak with had a flap of skin hanging off of it, running from forearm to wrist. The wound was bloodless, like the four open cuts on her cheek as she looked over at him. Trevor shuddered.

"How are you still alive?" he asked.

Aly's lip twitched. "Stubbornness, I think."

"So, you need blood."

"Yes," Aly said wearily.

"Well," Trevor said, "It's not doing any good dripping down my leg."

Aly wrinkled her nose. "That's not how I- prefer to feed."

"I'm sorry princess. Is it no fun if you don't get to bite?"

"You misunderstand me."

"I'm bleeding. You fucking want some or not?"

"Language," she said absently. She leaned forward and extended a hand to catch the drops rolling down Trevor's ankle. Her hand trembled slightly. She gulped and adjusted her grip so she was holding the ball of his foot.

Trevor leaned back and allowed her to lift his leg into the air. It would slow the bleeding.

Aly dipped her head. She ran her cold tongue up Trevor's leg. Her fingers pressed into the back of his foot as she lapped the blood in. Her other hand still clutched the clasp of Trevor's cloak. She looked vulnerable to Trevor. She was shaking again.

He'd been taught that vampires were creatures of unceasing gluttony. That their thirst for human suffering and pain was endless. But she had bitten him, and still stayed in control, not taken too much. 

"Just how many times did you bite me?" Trevor asked. He gritted his teeth as Aly got to the slices on his calf. The delicate pressure of her tongue stung.

Aly raised her head. "Twice."

Trevor grunted. "So what are you, anyway?"

Aly winced. She curled away from him instinctively, although she didn't seem able to remove her lips from his injury.

"I mean, you can be out in sunlight. Cloth isn't enough to protect a vampire."

"Oh," Aly said, as though she'd been dreading a different question. "You haven't figured it out yet?"

"Fucking enlighten me."

"Lisa is my mother. And Dracula-"

"Wait, you mean they?" Trevor started. He curled his hand into a loose fist and thrusted one finger in crude demonstration. 

Aly glared at him. She withdrew from his leg in earnest.

"Like, you weren't bitten. You were made the good ol' fashioned way."

Aly rolled her eyes. "How much did you drink, Belmont?"

"Damn," Trevor said, "With the lord of Darkness. She didn't seem the type."

Aly slowly rose. Trevor watched from the floor as she limped across the empty tavern. She was dwarfed by his big cloak. The hem trailed across the floor. But it was almost dignified? She reached the ripped open doorway with the same stubborn determination that had kept her alive. Was she going to just leave?

Aly retrieved her ripped veil, shaking her head as she considered the slashes in the cloth. Then she grabbed her bag. She returned to Trevor. Her steps were still halting, but Trevor noticed that the small slashes on her face had healed. As she brought her arm out to steady herself and sit, the skin on her forearm knit together.

"Damned convenient, magical healing," Trevor said.

Aly nodded. "Suppose you'll have to do it the hard way." She retrieved a roll of white gauze, a clean cloth and a small glass bottle from her bag.

She wetted the cloth and dabbed it onto the gashes. Trevor squeezed his eyes closed, willing himself not to whimper. The stuff stung. It wasn't until she was done, and had started wrapping his leg in bandages, that he trusted himself to speak.

"So you're a doctor too, huh?"

"No," Aly said, "My mother is- was."

Her hands paused. She sniffed. "I- if she was still here. She'd know what to do."

Her jaw clenched. She gulped and finished dressing his leg. Then she leaned away from him and fell into a cold, helpless kind of grief.

"What am I going to do?" she said, "I can't- not on my own."

Trevor lifted himself into a sitting position. He carefully adjusted his leg. He reached out and put a hand on Aly's cloaked shoulder.

"Hey. You're not alone."

Aly gulped. "I need something new to wear."

"Sure," Trevor said, "and then we need to run. That imp's probably finding its friends."

 

Everything about her was soft. Aly liked being soft. Sometimes she felt like a cat, or a blade sheathed in satin. Delicate and elegant, with some inner power; dangerous, amorphous and unknowable.

She hadn't understood her nature. How could she? Lisa had told her what she could, but she had only spent a few months with Dracula. She was human. How could she explain what she had only witnessed? And then there were other things, terrible things, that Lisa had concealed from her. 

So Aly had only discovered what it meant to be a vampire as she was faced with her own, utter powerlessness. When he showed up.

"Dracula?" Trevor asked.

She shook her head. "I've never seen Dracula. This was some other, awful vampire- Godbrand?"

"The mad viking?" Trevor said.

"Yes."

They were hiding in a small cave, with the horses grazing outside. Trevor had found a new dress for her, and they had fled town. Aly inspected the plain, dark brown cloth. She hadn't asked how he had found it. She decided she didn't want to know. She just wanted to change, and get out of his smelly cloak.

"You have to understand," Aly said, "We were in mourning. My father- the man who raised me- had just died. Mother thought it was another wellwisher."

 

She remembered it all. Lisa had ordered Aly to bed an hour before. This was a long standing joke. Aly didn't sleep. But she would stay in her room for the night, reading, praying, practicing her needlework. It was only on the most restless nights that she'd disobey her mother and wander the house.

It had been one of those nights. She heard loud knocking, and Lisa's dress swishing across the stairs as she headed down to the door. Curious, Aly watched through the crack in the door to the hallway.

"We aren't accepting guests right now," Lisa said as she opened the door. She winced. "You!"

Lisa made to slam the door again, but a grey hand curled around the wood and held it open. A man stepped into the foyer. Aly gulped. He was waxen skinned like her. Lisa had given her the idea that vampires were elegant, or refined, or dignified. He was none of those. He smirked at Lisa, openly showing fangs. He was shirtless under a dingy traveling cloak. His red hair and eyes were wild. He reached for Lisa and laughed when she shied away.

"Godbrand. What are you doing here?"

"Lord Dracula has been looking for you. You know you can't deny him."

"Leave me be," Lisa said, "I have no interest in seeing him."

Godbrand snapped forward like a bear trap. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her towards him. 

"It isn't a matter of interest," he said. 

"Unhand me," Lisa spat. She tugged her arm. His grip must have been like iron. Aly gulped. She wasn't supposed to be watching.

"Veni in auxilium, hominium, quos Deus creavit-"

Godbrand snarled and yanked her forward. He twisted Lisa around and put a hand over her mouth. "None of that!"

Aly was out of the door before she'd considered what she was going to do. "Let her go!" she cried. She grabbed Godbrand's shoulders and tugged.

He'd noticed that, more than he'd reacted to Lisa's struggles at least. He dropped Lisa and turned. He slapped Aly to the floor.

"The fuck are you?"

"Aly," Lisa screamed, "No. Run."

Aly opened her eyes. The dark entry room swayed in her vision. A pale hand reached forward and grabbed her by her braid. She was pulled upright.

"Fucking hell," Godbrand said.

Aly grabbed his arm. She pulled, and felt hair rip out of her scalp. 

"Let my mother go!" Aly said. 

"Your mother--?" Godbrand said slowly. He gave Aly a shake. Then he turned to consider Lisa, still picking herself up off the floor. 

"Let her go, Godbrand. Let her go and I'll come quietly."

"Shit," Godbrand said. He cackled. "He's Dracula's, ain't he?" He jerked Aly by the braid, and used his other hand to grab her chin, forcing her head up so he could inspect her.

Lisa gulped. "You don't understand."

"Dracula will just have to thank me later," Godbrand said. He let go of Aly and she stumbled back. He lunged in, striking her like a falcon strikes a rabbit. His talon-like nails eviscerated her. There were twin blasts of pain and blood, one in Aly's stomach and the other just above her left breast. Aly screamed and it died in her broken chest. She sank and he impaled her deeper.

"No!" Lisa screamed. Aly saw her as though through the far end of an optic lense, upside down and blurry. She raised something regal and silver into the air. She brought it down on Godbrand's head. 

Godbrand's shriek was Aly's own as clawed hands withdrew, taking flesh with them. He stepped back.

Lisa held the cross at him. She prayed again. "Proeliare hodie cum beatorum Angelorum exercitu proelia Domini, sicut pugnasti contra ducem superbias luciferum, et angelus eius apostaticos, et non valeorunt, neque locus inventus est eorum amplius incaelo."

 

"And he ran," Aly finished simply. 

"Huh," Trevor said. He stared out the cave entrance. Rain had started to fall as Aly talked, and the water caught on the mossy overhang before falling down in thick, loud drops. 

"I think he'd intended to strike my heart," Aly said, feeling over the wrappings she'd replaced on her breast. "But he missed." Aly appreciated the privacy as she reapplied the bandages the demons had ripped off her chest. She secured the wrappings around her stomach. She slipped on the dress with relief.

"So Lisa patched you up." Trevor turned back around. He was still weary, keeping his distance from her. "And then ran to us. Why?" 

"Because she knew Dracula would come after us. And if there was anyone would could stop him, it would be the Belmonts."

"Someone who could stop him?" Trevor said. He chewed on his lower lip, considering. "Wait-- isn't that supposed to be you?"

Aly sighed. She dipped her head and focused on smoothing the new skirt across her lap. 

"The one destined to kill Dracula?" Trevor said, quoting the little demon who'd tried to kill them both. "He said a name- what was it-?"

"It's not a name," Aly said. Her words echoed through the small cave, and also in her very tender chest. Louder and more forceful than she needed, but she couldn't bear to hear the word anymore. "It's Dracula backwards, okay? It's not a name and it doesn't mean anything. It's just the idea of someone destined to undo him."

"But isn't Aly short for-"

"No," Aly snapped. She hated talking like this, frantically parrying every blow before it could land. When she spoke loudly, she knew it meant opening her mouth wider and showing her fangs. She just wanted silence and safety, the comfort of a home and family that no longer existed. She wanted the compacts of powder and blush that she used to add color and life to her face, and the company of other noble ladies instead of this loutish Belmont. She desperately wanted to find Lisa. Just some tiny implication that she was still alive, that she had survived, was okay and still human, somewhere. 

"My full name is Alanna Demetriscue," she said, "My mother and I didn't even know that there was a name associated with the prophecy. It isn't my dead name."

Trevor grunted. "Hell of a coincidence."

Aly winced. "I know."

"So Dracula thinks you're this- legendary soldier son whose prophesied to kill him. And you're not."

"Yes. I'm not."

"Tried telling him that?"

She shook her head. "I've never met him- never seen him. And I don't think I can get near him without something trying to kill me."

Trevor leaned back, considering. "Great dad, huh."

"I told you, I wasn't raised by him. My father- my actual father- was human."

"You were raised by humans? Lived among them? And no one noticed?"

Aly's voice went ice cold. "Noticed what?"

"You know," Trevor said. He drew a hand across his own face, and then stuck two fingers in his mouth. "Pale. Fangs. Or do you always dress like you're in mourning?"

"I am in mourning," Aly snapped, "My father is dead. M-my mother as well, probably."

She gulped down the wave of absolute, panicked, senseless grief that saying that aloud welled up in her. She forced herself to stay here, in the present, in this cave, talking, because if she teetered even for a moment out into the awful, immediate past or the senseless, deadly future she would lose herself completely. 

"But if you must know, no. Makeup and gloves seem to do the job."

"Really?" Trevor snorted. 

"I don't know," Aly said, "Probably not on their own, no. But it's more than that. It's being soft and delicate and gentle. People don't see a monster if they're looking at a harmless girl."

Trevor's lip twitched. "A harmless girl? That's rich."

Aly turned to face him. Something in her frigid expression made him gulp. "Why is that funny to you, Belmont?"

She felt the cold anger inside her. It was heavy-- exhausting in a way that made her wish that she could sleep. She didn't want to fight Belmont on this. But she straightened her shoulders and readied herself anyway. 

She had to be as strong as her mother, who had fought the entire world to keep her safe.

"It just," Trevor started. He struggled for a word, screwing up his face, running his hands through his hair nervously. "It isn't natural."

"Natural?" Aly said. "Tell me, Belmont, as you a botanist?"

"What? No."

"A biologist then? A zoologist?" 

Trevor shook his head.

"A physician?"

He held up his hands. "Right, sorry, I get it."

"No," Aly cut across him. "You very obviously don't."

"I just meant that-"

"You speak of nature like it is composed of absolute laws and certainties," Aly said.

Trevor blinked. "Isn't it?"

Aly sighed. She massaged her temples. "Things are much more mutable than that."

"How do you mean?"

"I am not half a vampire and half a human. And I am not a woman trapped in a man's body. Not equal parts one thing and something else, not a divided amalgamation of things you think you understand. I am-- something else." She sighed. "I am a woman-- just, not like any woman you've probably ever met."

She gestured angrily at her own figure, not entirely brave enough to meet his eyes. "This is a woman's body, because it's mine. I have made peace with it. I'm in control of it. I had control of my life-- until all of this nonsense about- about Dracula's son started. And now everything has gone to hell and I'm so- so powerless in all of this."

"I know what and who I am," she said. She clenched her jaw and stared defiantly over at Trevor. "And the rest of the world is going to have to get used to it."

"Well shit," Trevor said softly, "with passion like that, you might just be able to convince someone."

"Like you?"

"Yeah. Like me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stress of writing this chapter. Finally getting into Aly's head so she can tell her own story. She is having the worst week, guys. Like, I don't think I can convey how shitty everything has been for her.


	5. The Basics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One sign of the vampire is the power of the hand. The slender hand of Mircalla closed like a vice of steel on the General's wrist when he raised the hatchet to strike. But its power is not confined to its grasp; it leaves a numbness in the limb it seizes, which is slowly, if ever, recovered from.  
> \-- Le Fanu, Joseph Sheridan. Carmilla.

She'd lived here once. This castle had been her home for three strange, passionate, frightening months. That had been twenty years ago. Lisa wracked her brain for everything she remembered. 

One thing she had learned was to stay in the light. Daytime was the best and only hour to sneak around the castle. She kept close to the windows, relying on the meager sunlight to repel whatever might be watching her, even if she could see nothing. 

She found him where she'd expected. He looked less like an old man than layers of candle wax dressed in a musty robe. In that way, he hadn't changed at all. Lisa had wondered before if he was human. She still had no idea.

The library was his domain. A younger Lisa would not have been able to brush past the endless corridors of books. But an older and wiser Lisa had learned that the living took priority over the words of the long dead. Aly took priority.

Lisa was here, in the castle. She could use that to her advantage. 

"Who goes there?" the librarian wheezed.

Lisa stepped out of the light and into the gloom where he could see her. "Do you remember me, old one?"

"The Count's mistress. Of course I remember."

Lisa suppressed her irritation at the title. Apparently he did not remember that she had fled. That suited her well. 

"There is something I need from you," Lisa said. She knelt and searched for the man's eyes underneath the consuming wrinkles on his face. 

A bushy grey eyebrow rose. "Something you need?"

Lisa pulled a letter from inside her sleeve. She pressed in into the man's shriveled hands. "I need this message delivered to Trevor-- Belmont."

"Belmont?" the man rasped. "You know I would never betray the master."

Lisa smirked. "You will be well compensated for the risks incurred." She pushed the message a little further into his cold hands. 

"Well," he said. He shifted slightly in his chair. "I suppose, just this once."

"See to it," Lisa said, as though she was still Dracula's mistress, someone with power. She turned and strode back into the light.

 

He caught up to her in the unavoidable dark of the laboratory. He was the hissing of a cloak just within ear shot, a shadow that slithered out of the corner of her eye.

"Vlad," she said, "I'm here. You can't scare me with your games."

"You should be cautious," he hissed into her ear.

Lisa stepped out of his solidifying embrace. She folded her arms. Did he understand how deeply she loathed him? That whatever he had hoped to gain by bringing her to the castle was utterly eclipsed by his threats to Aly.

"There are monsters in this castle. My guardianship may not be enough to protect you from their worst instincts. Especially if you insist on wandering during the day."

"Monsters?" Lisa said, "Monsters?! By far the basest, lowest and most fiendish creature I have seen here is you!"

"Is that why you disobey?" Vlad asked. His lip curled. "You are still angry at me? Your injuries have healed."

"My injuries? You bastard. You're trying to kill my daughter!"

Vlad leaned his head to one side. He sneered. "I forgot how selfish you could be."

Lisa found a beaker on the desk beside her. She shrieked and chucked it at him. "Selfish? Me, selfish? When you are so paranoid about preserving your immortality that you'd kill your own child?"

Vlad raised a hand. The beaker shattered on his palm. He hissed.

"Enough," he said, with a cold vehemence that froze Lisa to the floor, still looking for something else to throw at him. It congealed the rage in her chest and reminded her that her emotions would not save Aly- only her control and her intellect. She had to reason with Vlad, not enrage him.

"You think I am doing this for my own immortality?" Vlad said. He pulled shards of glass from his bleeding palm and pain mixed with barely controlled fury in his voice. "I spent the past twenty years bringing order to the nine hells, binding every demon, devil and vampire to my will. No more wanton killing, no more suffering and cruelty for its own sake. If I perish, all of that order is undone- the planes flung into chaos- all the precious humans that you claim to care for put at terrible risk. For that, yes, I will kill one child- even my own."

He punctuated each sentence with the clink of glass onto the floor.

"She's not some child soldier," Lisa said, "She doesn't even know how to fight. She couldn't possibly be a threat to you."

Vlad raised his head. He looked almost sad, solemn resolution in the harsh line of his brows. "I will not risk chaos, Lisa. Not even for you and your misplaced love."

"Love?" Lisa spat, "Vlad, if you manage this- I cannot love you if you kill her. You might be able to keep me in this castle. But it would be as an unwilling prisoner. There is nothing that would change that."

"Nothing?" Vlad said. His mouth fell into a cruel sneer. He descended on her in the rushing sound of his cloak unfurling. His uninjured arm looped around her waist and he held her to his cold chest. "I know one way to make you mine, forever."

He raised his bleeding palm to Lisa's face.

Lisa froze. "You wouldn't. I told you before- I do not want your curse."

"You speak of a gift you cannot understand," Vlad purred into her ear.

"But I do," Lisa said. She twisted away from the blood pooling in his palm, bringing her further into the dark emptiness of his cloak, closer to his dangerous mouth. She shivered. "I raised your daughter. Saw her struggle with it- suffer it. If you have any respect for me, any fondness for me, you will not turn me."

"Very well," Vlad said. He curled his fist, and when he opened his hand again, the wound had sealed. "I won't. But I will not lose you again, Lisa. Least of all to death. This castle is dangerous. If a demon, or one of my generals, or one of the damnable Belmont's you've sent on my trail- if any of them should hurt you, I will not patch you up a second time. I will remake you."

Lisa slipped out of his hold. She turned to face him.

"Nor will I lose you to the shriveling cruelty of time. One way or another, Lisa, you will be mine."

Lisa shuddered. She pictured her own face waxen and hollow, her eyes red, needle-like canines just visible in her opening, panting, starving mouth. 

"You would lose me forever," Lisa told him, "I would cease to be-- in any real way. Just a walking corpse. A reflection of your will. You would lose the things about me that you claimed to love, once."

She hated what she saw on his face. His despair, his immortal and iron will. He knew. He knew she would not forgive him. He knew he would have to turn her if he wanted her. He was prepared to do it.

Lisa gulped. "I did not think it possible for you to become more of a monster than the man I met twenty years ago."

"The man?" Vlad asked. He stepped towards her. "Do you still think of me as a man?" He grabbed Lisa's wrists. "I am the king of hell. The devil incarnate. I am far more and less than just a man."

He searched her face. Lisa wondered what he was looking for. She stared back at him with nothing but revulsion. 

His head jerked to the side. Lisa turned. She heard it to. A distant thud and a loud splintering of wood. 

Vlad's lip curled. "That would be the Belmont's then. I had better greet them. But first, I shall place you somewhere where you will be safe-- from my monsters and from yourself."

He wrapped his cloak around both of them and they vanished into a thin whip of fire.

* * *

 

"You know, I didn't mean it like that."

"Forget it Belmont. I don't want to talk about it."

"But- all I meant was that you're not harmless."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Ugh. Okay. Question."

"Yes?"

"Can you enter a church?"

Aly frowned. "No."

"Can you wear a crucifix?"

She shook her head.

"Can you stand garlic, or holy water, or sunlight?"

"You've made your point," Aly said quietly. "I know I'm a monster."

"That's not what I mean," Trevor said, "It's just that you have none of the means of protection a normal human would have against Dracula. You need other ways to defend yourself."

Aly narrowed her eyes. "Other ways? What else is there?"

"Good old fashioned steel," Trevor said. He unsheathed his sword and carefully offered it to her, holding the dull part of the blade.

"What?" Aly said. She scooted away from him and the offered blade.

"You've got all the makings of a good swords-- woman," Trevor said, "You're strong and nimble and your reflexes are fast. It's a crime you've never learned how to defend yourself."

"Defend myself?" Aly said, "The only thing that's protected me so far is looking like I've never held a blade in my life."

"Sure. That's protected you from humans. But Dracula and his minions think you're a threat, whether it's true or not. You've gotta be able to fend them off- unless you want to keep hitting demons with chairs."

Aly sighed. "Aren't you supposed to be the one with the sword? Isn't that what my mother hired you for?"

"Well, yeah," Trevor said, "But I can use my whip and daggers. You need to learn to fight with something. Unless you'd rather start with the whip?"

Aly wrinkled her nose. "I don't want to touch that thing. Keep it away from me."

"Right," Trevor said. He learned forward, offering the blade a little more insistently. "Sword it is."

Aly rolled her eyes and took the hilt. She adjusted easily to the weight of the blade and held it in both hands, arms straight, elbows locked, eyeing in nervously. 

Trevor chuckled. "Okay, let me show you how to hold it."

 

Okay, so maybe Trevor had been wrong about her instincts. He'd spent so much of his life training to fight vampires that training a vampire to fight felt like cosmic irony, and therefore the correct course of action.

"You're still holding too much tension in your shoulders," Trevor told her, "You won't be able to respond in time if you're tensed up dreading every strike."

"I know that. I just-" Aly gritted her teeth. Trevor raised an eyebrow. She almost never bared her fangs, even for her rare smiles. She shook her shoulders loose, winced, tucked a curl behind her ear and snapped, "Can we just get on with this?"

"Sure," Trevor said. He leaned onto his good leg and drew a dagger. "Now, all you need to do is parry me, alright?"

"Yes," Aly said, "Please, can we just-?"

Trevor lunged in. Aly noticed too late, dragging the sword around. Trevor looped under her defense and paused with the dagger tip an inch from her sternum. Aly gulped.

"With a longer blade, I would have stabbed you," Trevor said, "Let's try again."

"This is a pointless exercise," Aly said, "I'm not going to be good at this."

Trevor tilted his head. If she had already decided she was inept, no amount of persuasion or practice would change that. If he could get her over her misgivings, on the other hand.

"Here," Trevor said, "Come at me instead."

He took a step back and shifted his hold on the dagger, prepared to guard himself.

Aly shook disdain and reluctance off her body. She held the sword forward, loose, deliberate like Trevor had instructed, her feet as far apart as her skirt allowed. It was an elegant pose. She had a self-contained grace that should translated easily onto the battlefield. But all that composure was lost when she stepped in. She swung at him awkwardly, just with her arm. Her body wasn't engaged in the strike. Her heart wasn't in it.

Trevor didn't even need his dagger. He simply stepped out of the way and let Aly's momentum carry her past him.

"How have you even managed to feed off anyone if you're this bad at this?" Trevor asked. He adjusted his footing. "Try again."

Aly grimaced. She barely bothered to check her stance. She lunged. The movement was more natural and fluid. This time, Trevor had to use his dagger to deflect the blow, and twisted just enough so that the strength of the swing drew her away from him.

"I've never resorted to this-- brutish method," she said, turning to face him again.

She was his opposite, Trevor realized. He had to keep a cool head in a fight, had to resist his rage before he made a stupid mistake and got himself hurt. But somewhere underneath everything that Aly had learned and everything that she was afraid she might be, she had a warrior's natural talent. He just had to irritate it out of her.

"What? Too scared to hunt like a proper bloodsucker?"

Aly adjusted her grip and scowled at him. She struck hard enough it drew sparks off Trevor's blade. 

"I'm not scared," Aly said. 

Trevor snorted and parried a blow hard enough it made his hand ache. "You were even scared of me."

Aly snarled.

"You know what I think?" Trevor said. He jabbed at Aly's side, forcing her to back away. She brought the sword around just in time to deflect him. She was doing better.

"No," Aly said, "And I don't care! Can't this just be over?"

"I think you have suppressed every instinct you possess. You're terrified of what you'll find if you just let yourself give in."

"Shouldn't I be?" Aly demanded. She struck again. Trevor hated to admit it, but her strong, sloppy blows were starting to wear him down. He took a step back and felt his bandaged leg twitch. "You said it yourself. Vampires are monsters."

"So you'll let others fight for you- die for you, instead?" Trevor asked. He drew a second dagger, and used both to block her next strike.

"I-no- urgh," Aly screamed. She dove in at Trevor. He raised his blades and she switched her trajectory at the last moment, tossing aside her sword, ducking low and slamming into him.

Trevor hit the floor hard. He gasped. Aly hissed on top of him. She adjusted her legs to pin Trevor down. 

Maybe riling up the vampire hadn't been the greatest idea. In his defense, Trevor wasn't known for good plans. 

"Care to see how I 'manage' to feed?" Aly said.

"Shit," Trevor said. He felt the insane urge to laugh. "Don't-- uhh- you're not allowed to bite me."

Aly's lip twitched. Whatever had happened a moment before, she was in control of herself again. "Brat. You get to taunt me- insult me- and deny me the satisfaction of a few nips? Fine." Her hand snaked up and caressed the side of his face.

Trevor closed his eyes. The touch was more distracting, and more familiar, than he had expected. 

Aly purred. "Drop your daggers."

"I, uhhh-"

She reached further, wrapped her fingers into his hair. "I won't bite you Belmont. Drop your daggers."

The steel fell out of his hands. 

"Hold very still," she said. She bent down over him and put her lips on the side of his neck.

He was very sensitive there. She mouthed the latticework of vessels and tendons, and then ran her tongue over a particular spot, close to his shoulder. Where she'd bitten before, Trevor realized as the gentle touch sent a shiver of remembered pain down his spine. She blew a cold breath over the mark. Trevor whimpered.

"Poor boy," Aly said. She licked a line up to Trevor's jaw. She pressed her lips to his scruff, to his chin, brushed them lightly to his own.

Trevor caught himself leaning into the contact before he even realized it was a kiss. He blinked and pulled away.

Aly tilted her head. She considered him for a moment. Trevor wondered what she saw, what she could possibly see in him. 

Aly picked herself up off of him. She shook out her skirts. "There."

"Oh?" Trevor said. His voice was rough. He licked his lips. They tasted like nothing, and certainly not like her. "What's there?"

"You got your fight," Aly said, "And you got to see how I feed. Satisfied?"

"Yeah," Trevor lied.


	6. The Message

After that, Aly approached training with grim determination. She gave no more complaints about being inept. She mastered the footwork in a matter of days and developed a deadly parry that sent Trevor's blade spinning out of his hands multiple times.

"You're good at this," Trevor conceded. He went to grab his dagger. "You could probably protect yourself pretty damn well, unless-"

"Unless?" Aly asked. She held her chest and leaned back, catching her breath.

"Unless you meet someone who fights dirty," Trevor said.

Aly sighed. She sat beside the fire. "Is that likely?"

Trevor wiped down his blades, resheathed them, and joined her at the fire. "Depends. Most people will if they get desperate."

Aly grimaced. "I didn't want any of this."

"Yeah. You've made that pretty clear."

"What about you?"

"Huh?"

Aly looked over at him. She'd given up on her ripped viel days ago, and her eyes were molten in the fire light. "I mean, did you choose a warriors life, or?"

"I was born into this," Trevor shrugged, "What else would I do? It's in my blood."

"But is it what you want?"

"I dunno," Trevor said. He picked up a stick and prodded the logs.

"You never got a choice," Aly said.

Trevor glared at her. He didn't appreciate her pity. "What, like you got to pick, being Dracula's kid."

"But I did," Aly said, "My mother fought to give me as much freedom as she could."

"And she never thought to warn you that good ol' Daddy Vlad had it out for you?"

"Not- as such," Aly said. She looked up at the night's sky. Was she scanning it for demons? "She told me my father was dead, gone from the world."

Trevor snorted. "Well, I guess that isn't a lie."

"I'm going to save her," Aly said.

Trevor turned his head. Her mouth was set in a thin line. Her jaw was clenched. She was strange and beautiful in the fire light, immovable, solid and determined as a statue.

"If he'd just left us alone," she said, "Maybe it would be enough, to let you Belmonts do the fighting. But now? I want to find her. I want to kill him." Her fist clenched. 

"Do you think you can?" Trevor asked.

"I- I don't know."

"Well, maybe we can start you off fighting some demons, before you take on the vampire lord himself."

"You think we'll face more?" Aly asked. 

"I'm sure we will," Trevor said. He yawned.

"Alright then," Aly said. She squared her shoulders. Then she looked over at Trevor, and something about her gaze softened. "Go to bed, Belmont. I'll keep watch." 

"Right," Trevor said. He settled in to sleep. He watched her set the broad sword at easy reach on the log beside her. She really didn't sleep, did she?

 

The next thing he knew, a cold hand was shaking him awake. 

"Belmont!" Aly hissed, "Belmont, something's coming."

Trevor raised his head. "Yeah?" He blinked up at her.

She pointed into the sky.

Trevor blinked the sleep from his eyes. "Th-those are stars."

Aly sighed. "Look again," she said. She gestured into the heavens, pointing to the east. "One of them is getting bigger."

Trevor gulped. He caught it now, a pinprick of light moving towards them. Whatever it was, it was descending fast. The peetering flame turned from white to orange. It grew to the size of a pebble, then a child's ball.

"How did you even see it?" Trevor asked.

"Can't you sense it?" Aly said, "It's radiating magic."

"Well that ain't good. Hope it doesn't like swords," Trevor said. He pulled out a dagger and staggered upright.

Aly stood beside him, the broadsword raised. Nearby, the horses had woken up. They were restless; Trevor saw Aster's ears twitch.

The ball of flame descended towards them, hissing and spluttering like a torch down to its last drops of oil. The orbs momentum shifted abruptly. It floated to eye level before Trevor. It was barely the size of Trevor's fist.

Trevor shrugged. He rushed in with the dagger ready.

As soon as metal struck the orb of fire, it screeched. The flame contorted with a flash. It flew out and wove into a shape. A face formed, reminding Trevor of Dracula's visage in miniature. He gulped. 

"Wait!" Aly called out. She grabbed Trevor's wrist. 

The features solidified, forming a pert nose, a high forehead that suggested intelligence, and a thick braid that draped across a non-existent shoulder. Under the writhing flame, it was a form Trevor recognized.

Aly clutched his arm. "Mother?"

"Trevor Belmont," the fire said. The voice was hollow and weak like wood splintering in the heat, "I am so sorry."

There was a pause, punctuated by nothing but the guttering of flame.

"I deceived you, to protect my daughter. I swear to you that she is blameless in all of this. I trust that you have brought her to safety."

"Yeah, uhh, bout that-" Trevor started. Aly shushed him. The flames were still speaking.

"I am a prisoner in Dracula's castle. Right now, we are far to the north east, just past Turia. His generals and his demons are here. They are dangerous, and I fear that your family may be outnumbered."

The spell paused again. The flame shifted. Lisa looked down, as though in shame.

"If you are still with Aly- if you have a way to reach her- please tell her that I am sorry. Sorry I never told her. Sorry I couldn't protect her. Sorry for him, and for all of the pain and danger she has gone through. Tell her I love her."

The flame guttered in a brilliant flash of sparks. And then it was gone.

"No!" Aly said. She reached forward, trying to grab the sparks. They faded to nothing, and all she held between her hands were a few specks of dust. She stared at her fingers, and then swatted the dust away.

Trevor cleared his throat. He put his dagger away and put his hand on her shoulder. 

"She's alive, then," Aly said.

"Seems that way," Trevor said. He looked up at the sky wearily. "Unless it's some trick."

Aly stepped out of his hold. She shook her head. "She's alive. I- I have to believe that she's alive."

Trevor nodded grimly. She didn't seem to notice. She repeated it like a prayer. "Alive. She has to be alive."

Trevor sighed. He settled back in to sleep. Even if Lisa Demetriscue was alive now, Turia was two weeks journey at least. There was no guarantee that she'd still be whole, or human, by the time they got there.

 

"I don't like this," Trevor hissed. They'd left the horses just off the main road to graze and took the last half-mile on foot. "If he wanted to set a trap for you, this is where he'd do it."

"I agree," Aly said. She reached out and grabbed his hand. She squeezed his fingers. "But we've fought off demons before."

Trevor opened his mouth to protest. He looked down at her fingers twined in his. He closed his mouth again. She was- well, she was right. It had been a week since they'd received Lisa's message. In that week, they had fought monsters, and fought them well. But it hadn't been easy. Aly refused to spend the night in inns anymore if it meant bringing demons to whatever village they stayed at. 

Trevor shook his head and let her lead him to the edge of the tree line. She held the broadsword in her other hand. She had learned to protect herself with it, even if it was absolutely the wrong kind of weapon for her to wield.

"Well, it looks deserted," Aly said. She considered the simple manor just up the cobblestone path from them. The windows were dark. "Suppose the housekeeper has given us up for dead by now." She started towards the gate.

"No smoke from the chimney," Trevor said.

Aly looked back at him. She raised an eyebrow. "Do vampires use fireplaces?"

"Dunno. You tell me."

Aly shook her head. She reached the gate. It opened with a small squeak. Both of them flinched and scanned the empty, dry garden in front of the manor. All Trevor saw was brown leaves rustling in the breeze. It was daytime. If there was a trap or a trick waiting for them, they'd find it in Aly's house, not out in the open.

"If you must know," Aly whispered to him as they started up the path, "I do feel cold. Being warm is nice, even if I don't strictly need it."

"Huh," Trevor said. He kept his eyes on the cobblestones, looking for telltale scorch marks or rusty stains. He saw nothing.

Aly reached the door. She handed Trevor the broadsword and pulled out a key.

"Now, if you would kindly tell me what you're looking for," Trevor said.

"I did. Supplies."

"You mean like we could pick up at any general store between here and Dracula's castle?"

Aly sighed, "Well, yes. But-"

"But?" Trevor pressed. He raised any eyebrow.

"I want-- my makeup," Aly said. 

"You're fucking kidding me," Trevor said.

Aly whirled around, a finger over her lips. Her face was just slightly pink; as much of a blush as she could manage.

"No, no, hold up," Trevor said, "We're risking life and limb for your goddamn vanity?"

Aly winced. She hissed back, "For my disguise, Belmont. So people aren't staring at me at every village."

Trevor rolled his eyes. "Is that why we've been camping on the road? Because you're afraid people will--"

"Try to kill me?" Aly finished for him. She put a hand to her chest. "Yes, actually. That seems like a pretty good reason. Maybe if I still had my veil, but that got ripped to shreds."

"Unbelievable," Trevor said.

Aly shook her head. She turned back around and opened the door. "Look. We're already here. Would you like to argue and alert every night terror on the prowl, or can we just do this?"

"Fine," Trevor grumbled. He followed her into the house. Aly paused in the foyer. She shook her head. A silver cross lay on the floor next to a large, rusty stain.

"My room is this way," Aly said. She pointed to a door to the right.

"Yeah," Trevor said, "Ummm- which way did you say the pantry was?"

Aly looked back at him. "Belmont?" Her lip twitched.

Trevor gulped. He wasn't a good noble son by any stretch, but he couldn't just follow a lady's daughter back to her bedroom. There was basic etiquette that he understood. Did she see how red his face had gotten, even in the shadowy entry room?

"Kitchens are that way," Aly said at last. She pointed in the opposite direction, towards another door. "I won't be long. I'll meet you there."

"Great. And then this stupid detour can be over," he said to Aly's back. She didn't respond. He huffed and headed towards the pantry. The house was dark and, when he checked, the oil lamps were all empty. 

Certainly, no humans had been here. Trevor eased open the door and found a small kitchen, with a variety of herbs hanging in bunches from the ceiling. He slunk into the room. He scanned the bare counter and shelves. If there was a pantry here, he guessed it would be at the end of the room past the hearth, which was conveniently drapped in shadow.

Trevor stepped past the counter. Something hissed behind him. He shivered and turned. It was just the movement of the wind, slipping through an open window. An open window with a torn curtain and a broken sash.

Behind him, something snarled. Whatever had broken in.

"Crap!"

Trevor drew his sword. It felt unwieldy in his hands after so long just using his daggers and whip. A hulking, blue eyed creature lurched out of the pantry. 

"Looking for a snack, fucker?" Trevor demanded. He raised his whip and struck. The thing recoiled.

And then it occured to Trevor that he'd left Aly unarmed. Crap. He cracked the whip once more, and then ran back into the hall. The demon gave chase, its claws creaking across the wood. It chittered and roared for him.

"Aly!" Trevor called out. He slammed back into the foyer. It was empty. 

The demon howled and, from the stairs to Trevor's right, he heard squawks and squalls in response. Trevor ground his teeth. He started backing towards Aly's room, and found the way blocked by lesser demons as they flew down the stairs.

"Outta the way," Trevor demanded. He snapped his whip forward. It made contact, and one of the demons exploded with a shriek. The others lunged at him. Trevor rolled out of the way and into range of the hulking fiend from the pantry. It snapped at him. A weak flick of the whip was all that saved Trevor from losing his arm. He backed up, staggering to his feet.

At least he was sober this time. He inched towards the door, using the whip to keep demons at bay. He counted five of the lesser demons. The larger one prowled behind its brethren, just out of range. It seemed to be smiling at him.

Trevor gulped. Was it, like him, waiting for Aly? He snarled and chucked a dagger at it.

"Run, little Belmont," the large demon said. It swatted the dagger away. "Leave the bastard for us."

"Go to hell," Trevor said. 

"Why get involved?" the fiend demanded. It tilted its head. "This is a mere family dispute. Surely, you have no cause to love a half-breed, nor the bitch who sired him?"

Trevor swore. He snapped the whip forward. The demon caught it between his talons. He tugged, and Trevor felt the handle slipping between his hands. He clutched at it. 

"Look," Trevor said, hoping to distract this thing from the game of tug-o-war he was clearly losing, "At this point, it's the principal of the thing. Fuck you guys."

The demon chuckled. "The sentiment is mutual." It dragged Trevor forward. The lesser demons chittered. Trevor ground his teeth. He didn't appreciate being laughed at. He was losing ground, and if he let go of the whip, he'd have very little to keep so many monsters at bay. On the other hand, he was about to be tugged into a vulnerable position, surrounded on all sides by hungry red eyes and sharp talons.

Instead, the demon suddenly let go. Trevor's weight shifted with a jerk, and he staggered backwards. The lesser monsters needed no added invitation. They lunged. 

"Belmont!"

"Run!" Trevor spat. He saw Aly from the other side of a mass of wings and claws. He beat them back with the sword.

In response, he heard another low, resounding chuckle. "Alucard, I presume? Do you know what our lord has promised to the one who delivers your corpse?"

"I couldn't care less," Aly said, "Let the Belmont go."

The demon grunted. Trevor was staggering backwards. He couldn't catch his balance, frantically parrying strikes. He slammed into the back wall, inches from the door.

Trevor saw the demon lunge for Aly. He yelled, trying to cut a path through to her, knowing he was too far away to help. Aly snarled. The demon hissed. Trevor gritted his teeth, waiting for the scream that meant Aly had been ripped open. 

Instead, he heard another laugh. 

"How long can you keep that up?"

Aly winced and gasped. Trevor flicked his whip, bought himself a second of space, and looked up. She was holding the silver cross Lisa had wielded against Godbrand. Smoke rose in thin tendrils from her hands.

"No," the demon cooed, "You can't deny what you are. Where you belong."

Aly whimpered. "You- awful thing."

"I will send you to hell myself," the demon said. It circled.

Aly lurched around, trying to keep the crucifix between herself and the fiend. Trevor wasn't the only one getting distracted. He cut down two lesser demons as they stared. The rest wheeled back on him.

"Give it up, Alucard. You cannot deny your fate, nor our master's will," the demon said. It reached out a clawed hand in a delicate, almost affectionate gesture. "I promise I'll make it quick."

Aly cried out. Trevor heard her hands sizzling. She sank down, still desperately clutching the crucifix. "I won't-" she said. Her head dipped, and a few strands of gold hair fell forward, hiding her face. Trevor saw her jaw straining, her body fighting, her pure frustration under the pain. "I won't be beaten-- by you."

"Poor child," the demon said, "You already are."

It padded forward and raised its foremost arms. It tucked the errant strands of hair behind Aly's ear with one long claw. It grabbed her by the throat.

Trevor gulped. There were still three demons between him and Aly. They hissed, surging back and forth, keeping themselves just out of reach. But if he looked away, even for a moment, they jumped in at him.

"Now, how to do it. You're body must be recognizable for my lord," the demon mused. It grazed Aly's neck with a claw, then trailed down to her chest. 

"N-no," Aly cried. Her burned hands fumbled with the crucifix. 

The demon tapped a claw over her chest. It laughed. "What chance did you possibly have?"

Aly screamed. Something radiantly silver flashed through the gloom. Trevor heard metal clatter, and then a gurgle.

"What?!" the demon spat. One of its clawed hands squelched to the floor. 

Aly held up a blade with a look of wonder. Then she sliced at the demon again. This time, she went for the head.

Trevor didn't wait. He caught one lesser demon with his whip, and ran forward. He raised the broadsword. These greater demons had very few weak points, but if you sliced through the spines on the back, there were some critical points. He threw himself forward with a yell.

The demon spluttered. "Impudent boy!" 

Aly cut through its throat as Trevor sunk his blade into its back. The fiend heaved and roared. Aly leapt backwards to avoid its other claw. 

"Come on," Trevor snarled. He raised his sword and struck again. "You're dead. Act like it."

Aly dived back in. The long, silver rapier she held moved like an extension of her arm. She struck the demons eye. It screeched, an unearthly high, gurgling cry that made Trevor's muscles feel like jelly. Then it slumped backwards. Trevor flung himself off its back to avoid being impaled to the floor by its spines.

Aly didn't pause. She strode across the room, her new weapon in hand. She cut through one of the lesser demons and turned to the last, looking like a goddess of the underworld with her blood smeared dress and burned hands and the absolute disdain in her face.

"You can tell your master," she informed the demon, "to stop sending his lackeys. I will come for him myself."

She relieved the demon of its head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay! Got very caught up in my other fics (should not have tried writing three at once. Oh well) and life stuff (girlfriend and I moved!). Here it is. Alternate title- Trevor and Aly break into her house. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! And commenting! I've been having trouble maintaining motivation for this fic, so it means A LOT to me!


	7. Thirst

"Okay, hold on a minute," Trevor said.

Aly paused. She looked back from the manor gate. "I thought you grabbed what we needed."

This was true. Trevor had provisions in a sack slung over his arm. Aly had changed into a new dress, dark red with black trim that matched her veil. It wasn't a subtle look.

"Well, yes, but where the f- where did that come from?" He pointed to the sword sheathed at her hip.

"Oh," Aly said, "It was in the crucifix."

"There was a sword? In the crucifix?"

Aly shrugged. "It was a family heirloom of my mother's. I don't know its history. Perhaps we can ask, after all of this is over."

"Okay. Let me see if I'm following all of this," Trevor said. He went through the manor gate and they started back up the road. "Your mom just happened to have a magical, silvered, demon slaying sword hidden in a crucifix- and you were somehow able to pull it out and use it."

Aly shook her head. "That isn't the half of it. It- it feels more alive than your broadsword. Like it's responding to my will, more than my movements." She ducked back into the tree cover with a sigh of relief. Clearly, even with the veil, she didn't care for direct sunlight.

Trevor stayed in the light. He squinted at her. She had changed so much, in the past week and also in the last half hour. She was becoming terrifying- gaining some shadow of the mystery and power that was the infamous legacy of her father. Trevor gulped. "And you're sure you don't believe this prophecy shit?"

Aly looked back at him. He heard the coldness in her voice. "Not a word of it, Belmont."

Trevor shrugged. He followed her into the shade. Strictly speaking, he didn't believe in destiny. Destiny was something that would happen to his older brothers, the ones shaping up to be proper heroes. He felt more like he was being rolled down a mountain in a cramped barrel than being led on some divine journey.

But maybe, maybe, this hero's journey nonsense was never as clean or as elegant as the stories made it sound. Maybe he and Aly were on a dangerous path without even realizing the turn they'd taken.

* * *

 

_One way or another, Lisa, you will be mine._

Lisa blinked. Or at least, she tried to. She felt her eyelids shift, and the sweep of her lashes over the sensitive lower membrane. It didn't change the image of absolute, consuming dark in front of her.

"Vlad?"

Something rustled. Lisa heard the movement of cloth. She pushed her senses forward. She saw nothing, but she felt solid stone under her feet.

What had he said. "Somewhere where you will be safe-- from my monsters and from yourself"? As though she was a misbehaving child, confined to her room for her own protection. Lisa curled her fists, swallowing back cold rage. 

She tried not to think about her situation. She tried desperately not to think about Aly and the slim likelihood of her survival.

The Belmont's had arrived. All Lisa could do was hold out hope, like a mad man trying to catch moonlight in a bucket. She had to believe that someone could stop Dracula.

What she knew, was that it wouldn't be her. She had failed; hadn't managed to talk him down. And now she was in a strange place that itched with magic. She strained her ears again, trying to hear anything over the pounding of her heart.

The rustling of cloth got closer. It was a thin fabric hissing over stones. Lisa guessed gauze, or silk.

"Who's there?"

She heard a ragged breath. It was so close that she felt a ghost of moving air on her cheek. Lisa recoiled, bringing her arms forward to protect herself from a threat she couldn't see.

"Li-sa," the air hissed back at her. It echoed around her. And Lisa suddenly had the sense that she was in a long, but narrow hallway, or even a tunnel. The sound carried into an infinite infraction of senselessness.

No. Lisa shook her head. This was a spell, or a compulsion, or some kind of extradimensional space in which Vlad had trapped her.

Or hell. She gulped.

"Lisa," the air repeated around her. The sound sweetened like ripening fruit. "Why do you resist our lord?"

"Show yourself," Lisa spat, "I will not play Vlad's games."

"But you will," the voice said. It was unbearably simpering now, a plum about to burst from its own nectar, "You will play."

The voice started to rot. "You will give him everything that he desires and more. You will repay him for twenty years of his heartbreak."

Suddenly, there was light. It didn't announce itself with a flicker or a crackle of static. It didn't stun Lisa's corneas after so much darkness. This was all in her head. These sounds, the feeling of the stone under her feet, weren't real. What she saw now, standing over her, wasn't real.

That was what the rational part of Lisa's mind informed her. It was a distant contributor. The rest of her brain was screaming.

Her own face leered back at her, a hollow death mask. The deep set eyes were red like smouldering embers. The visage smiled at her. Below the neck, the double was nothing. Intestines constricted a broken spine and a shroud of ripped, rusty cloth covered skeletal legs.

"No," Lisa said, "this- this is a trick."

"He will take all that you owe him," the revenant said. She showed her pointed teeth. "Every ounce of blood. Every pound of flesh. And you will thank him for it."

"No," Lisa said. She sank to her knees. "No. No. No. You aren't real- you're just- this is just a game. I- I'm still human."

"Poor Lisa," the revenant said. It put a solid hand on Lisa's shoulder and cold blood seeped into her cloak. "You will soon be cured of that. And all of this pain."

Lisa put her hands over her ears. She prayed.

* * *

 

Destiny arrived when they were still two days west of Turia. The day had been overcast and grey. WInter had arrived. There would be many gloomy days between now and spring, if Trevor survived to see it. But something about the cloud cover felt claustrophobic. The clammy air itched at Trevor's collar and cold sweat trickled down his neck. 

The clouds descended with night, bringing early darkness. Fog curled in until the slate grey sky was right next to them. Trevor shivered and fidgeted with Aster's reins. Aly and Erzebet were a ghostly silhouette beside him on the road. Hoofbeats echoed strangely. 

The slim spectres of trees loomed out of the fog. Trevor strained his eyes and caught himself jumping in the saddle. They seemed to move, but it was just the way the air swirled and eddied. He shook his head. 

"Aly?" he hissed, as though someone might overhear them, "We need to stop."

"But-" Aly said. She turned her head forward and squinted into the gloom. "We're getting so close."

"You sure? I don't have a clue where we are in this." He waived vaguely at the fog.

"If we pushed forward, we could be in Turia tonight."

"Or we could wander off a cliff," Trevor said, "This is only getting worse."

Aly hissed in irritation and pulled off her veil. "We're so close, Trevor. It- we've made good time. Maybe-"

"If you want a chance at saving her," Trevor said, "You need to rest."

Aly winced. "I don't sleep."

"I don't care," Trevor said. He slid off Aster's saddle and considered the sky. Finding firewood would be a nuisance in these conditions, but it would be worth it to burn off the mist once they found somewhere to spend the night. He led Aster off the road.

"Fine," Aly sniffed. She dismounted and followed him. 

"And bullshit you don't need rest," Trevor said. A copse of young trees emerged from the fog. He headed towards them. "You've been grouchy for three days now."

"Grouchy?"

"Prissier than normal," Trevor clarified. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you've been avoiding me like the plague, for one."

"I haven't-"

"You didn't even help me up after you knocked me off balance with that magic rapier," Trevor said. He gulped and looked back. "And I get it. I'm lousy company, once you get to know me, and this has been a crap journey. But I thought-"

A cold hand pressed Trevor's shoulder. "Belmont?"

"It's fine," Trevor said, trying to shrug her off. He'd forgotten how strong her grip was.

"Trevor?"

"Yeah?"

"You've been fine company. I'm grateful to you. And I'm sorry for my behavior. I'm- ummm- thirsty."

"Oh shit. You mean?"

Aly withdrew her hand. Even so close by, she was a mass of shadows. Trevor couldn't read her face, but he saw the frustrated way that she pulled away from him. She pushed past, leading Erzebet further off the road. "I wouldn't go this long without, normally. And it's starting to drain on me."

"You need blood again."

"Well, yes," Aly said, "Did you forget that? Did you forget what I am?"

"Maybe."

She shook her head. "Here. Hand me Aster's reins. I'll find somewhere for us to camp."

"Yeah," Trevor said. He handed Aster over mechanically. "I'll, uhh, find firewood."

They walked away from each other.

An hour later, they'd settled in a mostly ruined cabin Aly somehow spotted in the fog and low light. Trevor started a fire while Aly brushed down the horses.

What did that mean, thirst? Trevor fumbled with the flint in his hands. What would have happened yesterday, if she'd accidently cut him when they'd spared? Would she have jumped at him? 

To Trevor, thirst meant danger. That was how he'd been trained to think of it. Thirst sent vampires on rampages, turned them from subtle and cunning predators into simple monsters. That was all Trevor knew and all he even thought he'd need to know. 

What did it mean for her to be half? Was her thirst weaker? Could she control it better? 

He looked up as Aly settled on the other side of the fire. She didn't meet his eyes. Trevor rubbed gooseflesh from his arms. Did she want him? That was a dangerous, stupid possibility. He shouldn't push it. He shouldn't ask. 

Trevor cleared his throat anyway.

"Thanks, by the way."

Trevor blinked. "Uhh, you're welcome? What for?"

Aly sighed. "For forgetting, and just treating me like a normal girl, I guess." She put her chin on her knees and glared into the flames.

Trevor wracked his brain, trying to remember what they had talked about. An older, less coherent memory presented itself instead. He remembered Aly's cold breath on his nape as she leaned in, cradling his head, holding him soft and exposed and vulnerable as she licked slowly up his shoulder. Trevor shook himself. His face reddened. He hoped Aly wouldn't notice. Maybe she couldn't hear his heart rate? Then he realized she was still talking.

"That's the best I can ever hope for, right? Just being mistaken for a normal girl? Passing as one. That's what I'm supposed to want. To just be- I don't know- human?"

"I- ummm."

"That's the best possible outcome, with all of this. We manage to kill Dracula somehow. And I get to go home and pretend to be human again," she said. She looked over at him and gulped. "I'll go back to hiding from you Belmonts."

"You don't have to hide from-"

"Really, Trevor? It's your family's legacy."

"Well yeah, but-" Trevor started. And then he thought about it. He remembered how he had been trained. You didn't wait around for the evil thing to get chatty, or sneak in a spell, or lure you into a trap. You leaped in and killed it because it was evil. Demons, vampires, werewolves and witches didn't get mercy. Mercy was for people, and the point was the protect people. There was no room in the Belmont ideology for in-betweens and here he was, staring at someone who was in-between in so many dangerous ways.

Trevor realized he was still passing the flint between his hands. He put it down and sighed. "I won't tell them about you."

"Thank you," Aly said.

"You know there's nothing wrong with you, right?"

"Sure," Aly said. She raised her head and gave Trevor a closed-lipped smile as thin as a blade. "Except for the vampire part."

"I like that part."

"What?"

Trevor inhaled sharply. He caught a face full of smoke and doubled over, coughing. 

"Trevor?" Aly called. She was at his side in a moment. She put one hand on his back, and pressed a waterskin into his hands. "Are you okay?"

Trevor nodded. He accepted the waterskin, still gasping to clear his lungs. He looked up at her and knew that his face was red, with tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. She was beautiful above him, wreathed in the flickering light and smudged at the edges. Concern pulled at the edge of her grey smile. 

"I'm fine," Trevor rasped. He took a drink and cleared his throat. 

Aly lingered over him. She chuckled. "Did- did you really say that?"

"What?" Trevor asked. He wiped tears from his eyes.

Aly placed her other hand on his shoulder. She leaned in and spoke into his ear. "You like my-- vampiric side?"

"I mean, yeah," Trevor said. He shivered and looked up at her. "You're beautiful. Powerful. Terrifying. It's nice seeing you confident and not afraid of yourself."

"Belmont," Aly purred, "Do you mean that?"

"Do I?" Trevor said. She was too close. She was thirsty. He wanted to lean into her, to raise his hands and grip her shoulders, and press his face into her inviting chest. He wanted her to keep holding him.

Aly sighed. "Do you ever stop to think about what you're saying?"

Trevor looked up at her. His gaze was still a little blurry. "You're pretty. Bite me."

Aly sucked in a breath and withdrew. "You don't mean that."

"No, no, Aly, listen to me," Trevor said, "If we're really doing this- fighting Dracula- I'm not going to matter. There's gonna be seven other Belmonts there. Eight, if Dad got my uncle to come along. You, though? You need to be strong."

"You don't think you'll matter in this? I wouldn't have made it this far without you."

"I'm not as strong as my brothers," Trevor said, "And I'm not as strong as you."

"Those aren't fair comparisons."

Trevor reached up. He pressed his hand to the side of her face. "Just, let me take care of you one more time," he said.

Aly gulped. "You're sure?"

Trevor nodded. He let his head loll to the side, enjoying the sensation of being held up. "Sure I'm sure. As long as, you know, you don't kill me."

"I'll be gentle with you," Aly said. She leaned his head back onto her shoulder and inclined over his throat. 

Trevor groaned. When had he last gotten to feel soft? Everything about him that had been vulnerable or delicate had botten ridiculed out of him by four older brothers. He was a Belmont. He was supposed to be a warrior. He was not supposed to be laying back in the arms of a refined noble lady.

Aly's hands worked up Trevor's chest. She loosened his collar and brushed it away from his neck. Aly placed a cool hand on Trevor's nape. It was such a formal gesture, he felt like he was being knighted. She moved her hand up. She was getting his hair out of the way, Trevor realized. She drew in a breath and her fingers suddenly cinched, dragging him up by the hair. It was a rough motion, and it made him realize how strong she was. She could lift his head and body with one easy yank. 

"Thank you," Aly said.

"Don't mention it--"

Aly didn't wait for him to finish. She bit. Trevor flinched, and then found his body going loose. After a quick strike of pain, the feeling was more subtle, an undercurrent that sought to pull him down. Trevor slumped into Aly's hold on his chest. He focused on breathing. Sweet water surrounded him. It reminded him of being given poppy once, when he'd recovered from a training injury. His neck and chest tingled. His vision blurred slightly.

"A-Aly," Trevor said. His hands fumbled backward. He found a fold of her skirt and pulled with an urgency he didn't understand. It was like knowing he was in a dream. He was trying to wake up, but he also wanted the sweetness of this fantasy to last forever, even if danger lurked under it like any other high.

Trevor slumped into her arms. His eyes closed. His mouth slipped open and he imagined himself falling to pieces, his consciousness drifting out into the mist. The fire crackled nearby, and there was a want in Trevor's chest that he didn't understand, a smouldering kind of burn. He didn't know how to voice it. His breath was fog, was smoke, was blood.

He was falling apart. Trevor whimpered. 

"It's okay," Aly said, "Trevor, you're okay. You're doing so well." She withdrew, placing her hand over his neck to stop the bleeding. She looked down at him. 

He looked up at her. "Heh. So that's what- that's like."

Aly pressed her other hand to the side of his face. "Hush darl-" she started. Then her head jerked up. She hissed. "Who's there?!"

"Did you bring enough to share?"

The cold, woman's voice echoed over the crackling of the fire. Trevor gasped. He tried to rise and felt like his limbs were made of stone. He got his eyes open and looked to the crumbled opening in the wall opposite them. A woman pulled herself out of the fog and into the ruined cabin. 

No, Trevor corrected himself. That was not a woman. It was a vampire, forming herself from the fog, leering at them as she stepped towards the fire. 

"Who are you?" Aly said. She pressed Trevor into her lap. Trevor heard the metallic slither of her drawing her blade. "Stay back."

The vampire paused. She laughed. "I wonder, are the Belmont's as fine a vintage as they say?"

Aly gulped. "He's mine. You can't have him."

"Oooooh, she's possessive," another voice floated in, "like her father."

Aly actually swore. Trevor groaned. This was his fault. He was the one who'd been trained to deal with vampiric bullshit. He'd seen ghostly figures moving in the fog. He'd felt something malicious and alive in the gloom. He had bloodied the water forgetting about the other sharks that might swarm.

"Just a taste," the first vampire said. She was close. She was far, far too close and Trevor could barely move. He recognized her with a jolt. Her face was elegantly painted, with the stylized red pigment on her lips an eerie imitation of blood. Cho, a warlord infamous in the east.

Aly pressed him to her chest and Trevor would have found that unbearably distracting in any position where he wasn't literally bleeding out and surrounded by vampires. Especially ones he knew, with reputations for cruelty and bloodlust in their own domains equal to Dracula's own.

"We're not here for the Belmont," the second vampire said. Her voice was lower, more commanding. Trevor heard her enter with a rustling of fine cloth. He saw gold at her throat and temples. He stared. Raman, not just a tyrant and a warlord, but a woman worshiped as a demi-goddess of bloodletting. 

In another state of mind, that might have made him cautious. Instead, he raised a swaying hand to flip them off. 

"Trevor," Aly hissed. She grabbed his hand and pressed it to the punctures still bleeding sluggishly at his neck. Then she spoke loudly, summoning a note of confidence that Trevor almost believed. "What do you want?"

"Surely you could spare a few drops," Cho said.

"Cho," Raman said. She adjusted her sari and stepped across the rubble at the entrance. "Can't you wait for the various Belmont's meandering through the castle?"

"Oh you bloodsucking bi-" Trevor slurred. He forced himself upright and immediately slumped forward instead. Aly wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him from falling into the fire. She pressed him back to the wall. 

"Your knight is indisposed," Cho said. Trevor saw her black eyes glittering from the other side of the flames. Her delicately painted lips curled. "Who else will protect you?"

Aly pointed her rapier forward, till it glinted in the flickering light. "I can protect myself."

Cho laughed. "From us?"

"If I must."

Raman tilted her head. She was still in the broken entrance. Her eyes sparkled like black glass. She inspected Aly, taking her in, dissecting her. Trevor curled a fist. No one should look at Aly like that.

"This is a mistake," Raman said.

Cho looked over at her. 

"We were told to kill his son," she said. She waived a hand at Aly.

Aly rolled her eyes. She leaned over, brushing Trevor's shoulder. Trevor looked down. She was reaching for her bag.

"Does it matter?" Cho asked, "Son- child? It is the same thing, yes?"

"It is not."

Cho snorted. "This is pedantic nonsense. Can't we just kill the half-breed and feed on the Belmont?"

"You!" Raman called.

Aly winced. She held the bag in one hand and turned to look at Raman. "Y-yes? Have you decided if you're going to kill me yet?"

"What is your name?" 

"Must we do this?" Cho asked.

Raman's glare could have melted iron. More impressively, it silenced Cho. She looked back at Aly. She stepped closer to the fire and somehow grew in height and stature. Trevor gulped. The flickering shadows seemed to gather around her like a cloak.

"What. Is your name?"

Aly sighed. "Alanna."

"Alanna," Raman said, tasting her name on the air, "Why do you dress like a woman?"

"Cause she is one, you dense magg-"

Aly put a hand over Trevor's mouth. She sighed. "Does it matter what I wear? To you? To anyone? Can't you leave well enough alone and just let me be? All I have ever wanted is to be left alone."

Raman considered her the way a cat eyes a mouse that has already been trapped, as though she was wondering if Aly would be worth the sport of chasing. "You are very-- indulgent with him."

Aly shuddered. "How can you talk about humans like that? Weren't you human once?"

"We have overcome such weaknesses," Cho said.

"You are pathetic," Aly said, "I thought vampires were supposed to be wise and powerful immortals. Scholars and philosophers, not feral animals thirsting after blood and treating humans like playthings."

"Insolent girl," Cho said, "I should kill you now!" She rose, one taloned hand already in the air. Aly pushed herself off of the wall, holding the rapier ready.

Something snapped, and a wave of cold pulsed through the room. Trevor shivered and pressed his hand closer to the wound on his neck. The air that passed him felt alive and hungry. It scrapped over his skin, wanting. 

"Cho!" Raman said. She made an open-palmed flourish with her hand. A globe of darkness settled in her palm. She curled her fingers around it and warmth and heat returned to the room. "We aren't killing them."

Cho settled back with a hiss.

"You aren't--?" Aly said.

"Do not mistake my intentions dear," Raman said. Her lip curled. "I will deliver you to Dracula. He'll know what to do with you."

Aly gulped. She stared up at Raman. "I'd rather fight."

"Perhaps, I haven't made myself clear?" Raman said. 

"Shit," Trevor groaned. He heard the warning in her voice. He tried to rise and the picture swayed in front of him.

Aly brought her blade in just in time. Raman simply appeared in front of her, pointed nails bared. A hiss escaped her lips as the point of Aly's rapier resounded off the metal band at her throat. She stepped back and laughed.

"Yes, I suppose you have a shadow of his gift. A pity you don't know how to use it," Raman said. She lunged in.

Aly leapt out of the way of her claws and slashed with the rapier to keep her back.

"Hello little Belmont," someone cooed in Trevor's ear. 

Trevor started to call out, and a grey hand wrapped around his mouth. 

"Hush now," Cho said, "You wouldn't want to distract her."

She dragged him to his feet and held him to her robes. She wrinkled her nose as he struggled and smeared blood on her sleeve. Her grip was iron over his jaw and around his waist.

"You're just making yourself bleed more," she told him.

Trevor squirmed. He still heard the slice of Aly's blade and Raman's light footsteps. She was still fighting. He had to fight. He had to be strong, when just keeping his eyes open seemed an impossible task. 

He went still.

"That's better," Cho said.

Trevor rolled his eyes. He twisted and bit her hand.

Cho shrieked. She ripped her hand out of Trevor's mouth and twisted him around.

"What- Trevor?!" Aly called out. Trevor heard someone running towards him. 

Cho snarled. "Oh, please give me a reason to kill him." She switched her grip into one Trevor knew all too well, a clawed hand on his throat and her cold breath on his neck. 

Aly stopped. She clutched her rapier and stared. Raman closed in on her other side. 

"It would be so easy right now," Cho said, "You weakened him beautifully."

Raman called, "You remember Dracula's orders."

"I don't care. He is an insane and paranoid old man, frightened of mere children. I cannot believe we have wasted so much on a spinster and this weak half-breed she raised."

She gestured at Aly, and Trevor glimpsed the semicircle bite mark he'd sunk into the webbing of her hand. He should have gone for her fingers. 

"L-let him go," Aly said. She cast aside the rapier and raised her arms into the air. "Please, just let him go."

"No," Cho said. She leaned in and licked the open punctures on Trevor's neck. Trevor shuddered. "I think I'll keep him. A complete set of Belmonts. Perhaps we can impale them all in a lovely little row in front of the castle gates."

"N-no," Aly said, "Please, he's innocent in this. I'll go with you, I'll do whatever you say, please." She sank to the floor.

Raman chuckled. She swiped the silver sword up by its hilt. She held it up to the fire light and wrinkled her nose. Then she looked over at Cho. "I think we're done here. Are you really going to bring the Belmont?"

"He'll be a wonderful incentive," Cho said.

"Fuck you," Trevor breathed. 

"P-please," Aly said. She stared back at Raman.

Raman smirked. She grabbed Aly and dragged her to her feet. 

Cho cackled. She pressed Trevor into her body. The last thing Trevor saw was Aly slowly raising her head, her eyes wide, her mouth agape trying to put words to her overwhelmed and senseless horror.

And then Trevor was pulled away in a rushing of wind and thick air that left clammy sweat on his body. Magic swarmed around him, pressing him in and out of nothingness. He passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wish we had gotten more screen time for some of the generals. So I suppose this chapter is mostly me indulging that. 
> 
> Random side note. I named Aly's horse after Erzsebet Bathory, possibly the second most famous historical "vampire". 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos mean a lot to me.


	8. The Castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for misgendering again. Stay safe everyone!

Aly gaped up at it. It was an impossible structure. Buttresses flew out at odd angles to support towers that floated, as though the heavy stone was unmoored from the gravity of this world. Pistons heaved and electricity crackled. Wheels and gears cranked. It wasn't a building. This was a machine. Aly gulped. This was a living embodiment of Dracula's will, bathed in shadows and mist and faint moonlight. It seemed to breath. 

It called to her by a meaningless name. Alucard. She shuddered. This building was going to destroy her.

The heavy stone and gold gilded doors creaked open. They were like the mandibles of an ancient insect.

"We're expected," Raman said. 

Aly froze. "He- no. Not yet. Not now- like this."

The dark reached out for her. Aly had never seen darkness that seemed so hostile before. Darkness was safety, a place to hide and an absence of discomfort from the sun. All she saw in the unknowable shadows of the castle was death. Her death, Lisa's death, Trevor's death.

"Come now," Raman said, "Wouldn't want to keep your father waiting."

"I can't- you have to understand. I couldn't possibly be a threat to him."

"That is, rather obvious," Raman said, "Speaking of which-"

Aly whimpered and shrunk away. Raman ran a hand down her body. 

"Hold still," Raman spat. She swatted Aly's hands away. Her other arm jerked hard on Aly's braid, forcing her back. Aly gasped and went still. A frighteningly strong hand gripped Aly's waist. Raman's pointed nails dug into her stomach.

"P-please," Aly said. She gulped as Raman's hand worked down her hip. She remembered the demon who'd ripped off her bodice. She suddenly felt cold and small and sick. Why did her body have to be inspected, judged, exposed? Why did it matter to anyone except her? "Please don't touch me there."

"There?" Raman asked. Then she chuckled. "Oh. Poor thing. This is all I wanted. Since you won't be needing it anymore."

She undid the belt of the scabbard at Aly's hip and slipped it off of her. She sheathed the rapier and shook her head. "Where in the nine hells did you find a silvered sword?"

Aly twisted just enough to glare back at her. It pricked needles of pain into her scalp as her hair was pulled. "I hope the Belmonts stake you."

Raman grinned, showing not just her fangs but a whole array of unusually sharp teeth. "Is that really all you have? The best you can do?"

Aly gritted her teeth. What was she supposed to do? If she tried to voice the rage and panic gurgling in her stomach, she would probably start crying. She wasn't meant for this. Why didn't anyone understand that? She was not Alucard, not a warrior or a fighter or a soldier or a man, and she wasn't prepared to die because someone believed she was any of those. 

Raman let go of her braid. Aly stumbled forward and cold hands pushed her towards the doors. "Lord Dracula is famous for his rage. He slaughtered cities for it. Leveled armies. His might and will and fury are stuff of legends. All this time, he's lived in fear of a son that will destroy him."

"Can you imagine the disappointment?" Raman said. She strode through the entrance and kicked Aly as she tried to rise. "I thought you might have some. Tiny. Semblance of that gift. But no. No. You are weak in every human sense. Pathetic."

Aly curled in, protecting her stomach from Raman's next kick. She glared up at her. "Better than a murderer and a monster."

Raman shook her head. "A waste of time."

Aly gulped. Mist filtered through the doors behind Raman. It took shape, wrapping itself into two forms. One of them slumped to the floor immediately.

The cold shadows of the entrance hall seeped into Aly's body. She was suddenly shivering. Trevor fell forward onto the ground.

"What have you-?" Aly demanded. She straightened, ignoring the pain in her stomach, and got to Trevor's side. 

"Us?" Cho cackled, "You're the one who bit him."

"Have you not noticed, dear? Humans die when you bite them."

A shard of cold ice struck up to Aly's heart. "Die? No. Just let me help him. Give me my bag, please."

She grabbed Trevor's wrist. Her hands were numb and cold. It took her a moment to find the right place. She pressed her fingers just under his wrist bone. She felt a faint, thrumming beat. 

Alive. He was still alive. She pressed her hand to the wound on his shoulder. She'd picked a spot on his body away from the essential arteries at his neck. If she'd been able to bandage him up properly, he would have been fine in a few hours. Even without pressure, the flow had started to slow. But there was a large, dark red stain on his collar, blooming out into his tunic.

"You want to save him?" Cho asked.

Aly looked up. She held her bag. Aly had bandages in there, as well as antiseptic, salves and a handful of dried herbs that she could use to brew a tea that would help Trevor wake up with his strength restored.

Aly reached for the bag. Cho's face broke into a grin as she yanked it away. 

"Not here," Cho said, "He's already attracting attention."

"What?" Aly asked. She looked around. She gulped. Animalistic red eyes leered back at them. Now, she heard chittering and the dry flapping of leathery wings. Claws scrapped on stone.

"Pick him up. We'll go somewhere private."

"I'll inform Lord Dracula," Raman said. She strode across the hall and the demons parted for her like a winged sea.

"Well, girl? On your feet."

Aly picked Trevor up, cradling his injured shoulder. He was bulky, but surprisingly light. She gulped. He was lighter than he'd been when she first fed on him. This journey had worn him down. Her greed, need and thirst had hurt him. It was because of her thirst that this had happened.

She wrapped her other arm under his knees.

"Good," Cho said. She shoved Aly forward in front of her.

Demons hissed and squawked, but retreated at Cho's glare. She led Aly into a dark side passage of the castle.

* * *

 

"My lord?"

Dracula shifted. He stood over a bed. He didn't raise his head.

"Yes? Do you have a reason to disturb me?"

He heard the irritated swish of a sari behind him. Raman required more finesse than some of his other generals. She was powerful. She wouldn't be bullied like Godbrand.

Dracula sighed. He leaned over and brushed a strand of blond hair out of Lisa's face. Her brow wrinkled and she dragged in a breath.

"General Raman. My apologies."

"You are still attending to her, my lord?" Raman said. She responded to his etiquette in kind. She slipped into the room.

There weren't many vampires Dracula would admit into this room with Lisa here, delicate, senseless and hanging on a razors edge.

"She resists me still," he said.

Raman clicked her tongue. "And you've given her blood?"

"Yes."

"Hmm," Raman said. She moved to the bed and bent over it. Lisa shivered as her shadow fell over her. "I have never known a mortal to resist so strongly."

"What will you do now?"

Dracula sighed. "I will give her more. She will not hold out forever. She will not hate me forever."

"Hate you?"

"She is attached to Alucard. Delusional," Dracula said. He shook his head and reached for the silver-edged dagger on the bedside. He had a thin, purple mark on his forearms where he'd cut himself last. He would fill a goblet again. He would drown her will in the magic of his blood. He would have her, and in having her he would lose her utterly. These long nights she resisted, feverish and teetering on the edge of the curse, gave him just a little more time to fall for her in all her humanness. The flush in her cheeks, the enticing pulse at her throat and her absurdly soft mouth would all be lost. More than that, some vital intensity of her brain and spirit would be gone forever.

Dracula sighed. He raised the dagger to the lamplight.

A hand wrapped around his arm.

"The child, the one you call Alucard, is here," Raman said.

The dagger clattered from Dracula's hand. "Here? He is here?"

"Cho and I caught the pair of them. They are in her chambers."

"At last," Dracula said. He sighed. "We can be done with this." He started for the door.

"She is- not what you expect, my lord."

Dracula looked back at Raman. She stood at the edge of the moonlight, her shadow falling over Lisa's blanket.

"I don't care," Dracula said, "I have had enough of these games. This ends tonight and then we can return to our duties."

"Yes," Raman said.

"Lead me to him," Dracula said.

"Her, my lord."

"Lead me to her, then."

* * *

 

"Trevor?"

He knew that voice. It was low and melodic, a voice that could enrapture and suck one in like an undercurrent. 

"You've- you've done such a good job."

The voice warbled and broke. Trevor squirmed under the grip of exhaustion. He needed to help. He needed to comfort. But he was so tired. He heard Aly sob.

"I'm sorry. This- this is almost done. You're going to be okay."

Light, cold fingers pressed the side of Trevor's throat. Aly grazed his temples. She put a hand on his chest. Trevor's eyes flickered. Aly's gold, grey face glowed in the dim light.

"Did we win?" Trevor croaked.

Aly laughed. The sound was edged in bitterness, like the draught she held to his lips. "No. Not- not quite."

Trevor allowed himself to be lifted into a sitting position and eased back against a stone wall so he could drink. He tried to remember. 

The memories returned more quickly, and coherently, than last time he'd come round with a wound at his shoulder and Aly hovering over him. They'd been close to Turia when the fog has rolled in. When he'd convinced Aly to bite him. When two vampires had pulled themselves out of the gloom.

Trevor groaned. He pushed the empty cup away and grabbed Aly's wrist. "You gotta run."

"Trevor, I-"

"Forget about me," Trevor said. He squeezed her slim arm. He tried for conviction when he could barely slur a sentence together. "Get out of here. Find Lisa and flee."

"I'm not leaving you."

"Like hell you aren't," Trevor said, "They'll kill you."

"Trevor?"

"He'll kill you."

"I know."

"And, what? You gotta fight it. You've just fed. You're strong. Use it."

Aly sighed. She pressed her hand to Trevor's face. "I can't. There's, there's no point to this. He's hunting for me, searching for me. I can't outrun him, I can't outlast him, I can't beat him. And every time I've tried, someone's gotten hurt. My mother- and now you."

Trevor pushed himself upright. "Bullshit. I signed up for this. I told you to bite me. You're good. You've gotta- you've gotta be brave."

"Look at me, Trevor."

She put a hand on his waist to steady him. Trevor reached forward. He braced himself on her shoulders and the dingy room around him finally stopped spinning. He looked up at her.

She'd been crying. Her eyelids and cheeks were still puffy and faintly pink. Red streaks trailed from her eyes.

She sniffed. "I can't. It's time for- for this to be over."

"No. No, you don't mean that. Aly, please."

She wiped her eyes. "Everyone I care about is gonna die because of me."

"No. Aly that's not true. This isn't your fault."

Aly looked at him. Some fundamental luster in her eyes had faded. "But I'm the only one who can stop this."

"We'll find another way," Trevor said. 

"How?"

Trevor sighed. "Come here." He wrapped his hands properly around her back, as though there was anything proper about what he was doing. She moved with him, letting him press her into his chest. She trembled.

Trevor gulped. He put his hands on her head.

"I'm- I'm so selfish."

"No," Trevor said. He rocked her slightly. Whatever was in that tea was doing its job. He felt almost well enough to stand again. The tiny room was coming into focus. He was able to hold Aly up as she collapsed into him. "Don't- please don't say that."

So Aly simply leaned in over his heart.

Trevor sighed. He scanned the room. They were too fucking close for him to give up now. They were in the castle. There were vampires and demons around every corner, sure, but somewhere in this notorious labyrinth of a fortress there must also be Belmonts. Trevor's family was here. If what Cho and Raman had said was true, they were still alive. 

If they could find the Belmonts, they had a chance.

Unless Dracula found them first.

Trevor shook the thought away. He had to cling to the slim likelihood of survival. He couldn't lose hope, anymore than he could bear to lose the girl in his arms. He needed to save her.

Trevor looked around the small, square stone room. There were rusty iron shackles on the wall, and an equally rusty fetter on Aly's ankle. Thick iron bars blocked the door. Dark stains coated the floor near the mounted manacles. Trevor hissed. He held Aly more tightly to him. He'd heard about rooms like this, places to store humans between feedings.

Fucking vampires. He'd nearly forgotten. He'd spent so much time with Aly that the blood drinking curse had seemed mild and manageable, instead of a symptom of absolute evil and depravity. He winced.

"what is-?" Aly asked. She must have felt him move. She pulled away. "Are you in pain? I shouldn't be touching you."

She grimaced. "I shouldn't be anywhere near you. This is all my fault. My thirst."

Trevor reached out a hand and put a finger on her lips. Aly froze. Her eyes went wide.

Trevor sighed. He searched Aly's face. For the first time, it occurred to him that she was young. They were both barely of age by human standards, and she was only half.

"None of this is your fault," Trevor said. He shifted his hand, grazed her cheek, leaned in. 

Aly trembled when he kissed her. She closed her eyes and a small sob escaped from between her lips into his. 

Trevor shivered. He wanted to save her. He wanted to possess her in a number of terrifying ways. He wanted to give her everything. He wasn't sure what everything meant.

"How sweet."

Trevor's head jerked up. He glared through the iron bars. Cho leered in at him. She chuckled. "Shouldn't you know better than to get near her mouth by now?"

Aly whimpered. She sank onto Trevor's shoulder. Trevor starred back at Cho. "Fuck. You."

"Dracula arrives any moment. I would prefer if he didn't find you two making love."

"Then you'd better come in here and fucking stop us," Trevor said.

"Children," Cho said. She rolled her eyes. The door creaked open. She stepped in and grabbed Aly by the braid. She started to drag her away. The chain around Aly's ankle rattled. 

Cho snorted. She let go and Aly fell back onto the stone floor.

Trevor winced. He pushed himself off the wall, trying to stand. He looked over at Aly. She reached forward and grabbed her bag.

Trevor raised an eyebrow. Did- did she have something in there that could help?

Trevor shrugged. Well, duty calls then. He didn't bother to stand up properly or catch his balance. He simply waited for the shackle on Aly's leg to click open. Then he propelled himself off the wall and ran forward to tackle Cho.

"What the-?" Cho started. She vanished into mist and Trevor ran into the back wall. "You idiot. What were you hoping to get out of that?"

Trevor staggered backwards, clutching his shoulder. It was just bruised. He'd be fine. He grinned up at Cho. "A clear shot," he told her. 

Aly flung a glass bottle at Cho's face. It landed with a tinkling crash. Cho screamed and clutched her face. Trevor saw smoke rise from between her fingers. The smell of old meat burning wafted through the room.

A hand grabbed Trevor's wrist. Aly ducked through the iron door and pulled him through. They ran.

"So what was that stuff?" Trevor said, as Aly tugged him through a blur of well-appointment bedchambers.

"A mixture of salves and holy water," Aly told him.

"Why did you have that in your bag?"

"For, uhh, feeding," Aly said, "It helps with infections and, well-"

"Keeping me from turning into a fucking vampire?" Trevor asked.

"I'm not sure if I could turn you," Aly said, "Even if I wanted to."

"Let's not find out."

"Agreed," Aly said. She hissed as they entered a hallway. Darkness encroached on either side, and Trevor could hear running behind them. 

Aly paused. She looked back at Trevor, who leaned forward, hands on his knees, behind her. He was panting. He had not recovered yet.

"Go," he said. He waived her towards a passage at random. "Run. You gotta."

Instead, Aly scooped him up. She turned right and hurtled down the hall, every step echoing enough to wake the dead. Trevor ground his teeth. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder and curled his fists. As far as plans went, this had to be one of the worst he'd ever been a part of. And Trevor Belmont was not known for good plans.

"We're gonna get out of this together," Aly said. She reached a new intersection of dimly lit hallways and took a left, into a passage whose red curtains gleamed in the moonlight. "We've come too far for me to abandon you now."

"God. It's like you've only learned the stupidest parts of how to be a hero," Trevor said.

Aly looked down at him. For the first time, she smiled. "I can't do this without you, Trevor."

She reached a turn in the hallway, skidded, adjusted, and ran straight into a solid wall of demons.

"Holy fuck," Trevor swore. 

Aly hissed. She stumbled backwards to avoid the slashing of claws. Trevor rolled out of her arms. He reached instinctively for his hip and the sword that wasn't there. He swore. His sword and whip where probably still in the ruined cabin miles from here. 

"Right then," Trevor said. He twisted around. Four demons had already flown overhead fill in the gap behind them, sealing them in. Trevor sighed. He cracked his knuckles. 

Aly wearily raised her fists. 

This was officially the worst plan Trevor had ever gotten roped into. A chittering cry went up among the demons. Two of them lunged for him in unison.

Trevor swore. He rolled, knowing even as he dodged the first that the second was going to catch him. He gritted his teeth, waiting for the rip of flesh, the searing pain, Aly's scream.

Instead, Trevor heard the taut snap of leather. A high pitched scream clawed down the hall. Heat rushed past Trevor. He finished his roll and raised his head.

"The fu--"

Trevor gulped down the rest of the curse. His father stood before him, a demon impaled on his sword. He brought his whip around again, striking one that had charged at Aly and ripping it open. 

The Belmonts were here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting very close to finishing this. I'm excited! Also very stressed. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and commenting all!


	9. The Fight

"Dad, I can explain."

Lord Belmont spared a moment to drop a dagger at Trevor's feet. "Later, Trevor. Fight."

Trevor's brothers swarmed in. Demons screeched. Trevor heard whips crack and swords clash on claws. He was sucked into it. He'd trained with his siblings. To finally get to fight with them, back to back with his father and brothers, felt right.

He was a Belmont. He had a warrior's spirit, even if fighting hadn't come as naturally or easily to him as it should have. He was surrounded by his family. It was going to be okay. After weeks of uncertainty and fear, he could let go and let someone else take responsibility. It was a relief.

It was over in minutes. A handful of demons scrambled to the rafters. Most of them were caught by whips and dragged back down to be finished off.

Trevor pulled his dagger from a demon's twitching back. He gasped and leaned on the wall. It was done. Now that the adrenaline was gone, he felt sleepy and somewhere between drunk and drugged. Something gnawed at him, something he needed to do. It was something important. But it slipped free of Trevor's mind.

His family was here. He was safe. Relief was a tangible warmth in his chest.

"Not too bad," someone said. A large hand reached over and tousled Trevor's hair. Trevor looked up. His eldest brother, Petru, grinned at him. "Now, how the hell did you end up here?"

Trevor couldn't help it. He grinned back. "Couldn't let you have all the glory."

"Idiot. You look like shit."

"Yeah, well, so do you," Trevor said. He pointed to a gash on Petru's forehead.

Petru swabbed at his brow. "Guess you get a bit banged up, protecting humanity. What happened to you?"

"To me?" Trevor asked. He followed Petru's gesture and felt along his shoulder. His tunic collar was stiff with dried blood. He felt the compress, and a small sting as he brushed the bite underneath.

Trevor remember what had been gnawing at him.

Aly, he thought. He twisted his head too quickly, and a stabbing ache shot up his neck. He scanned the demons George and Istavan were piling into the center of the room. For one terrifying second, he thought he saw Aly's body flung in with the monsters. But it was just a reflection of moonlight that made a grey shadow on the pile.

He looked past them. His father and uncle were still armed. They stood on either side of a figure who knelt. The halo of hair around her head was silver in the moonlight.

"Wait!" Trevor yelled. He ran forward. "Father, wait. You don't- she's not-"

Trevor's uncle pointed his broadsword at Aly. "Hands where we can see them, vampire."

Aly shuddered visibly. She removed her hands from around her mouth and raised them into the air. "Lord Belmont," she said. She kept her head down, as though she could hide her beautiful, strange gold eyes or her fangs as she spoke.

"Quiet," Trevor's uncle said. He pressed his blade to her chin and forced her face into the light. He looked over at his brother. "Gregori?"

"I don't recognize her. Someone's lieutenant, maybe?" Lord Belmont mused aloud. He stepped forward and looked down at Aly. "Well? Who do you belong to?"

"B-belong to?" Aly asked. She stared back up at him, an eyebrow raised. 

"Who sired you? That's how these hierarchies are determined, right? Are you one of Carmilla's? She does have a reputation."

"I wasn't sired."

"Dad?" Trevor called out, "Wait. This is Lady Alanna Demetriscue."

Lord Belmont turned his head. His blue-grey eyes searched Trevor's face. His brow fell. "What?"

Trevor gulped. That look frightened him. "She- this is the girl you told me to protect. Lisa's daughter."

"Trevor?"

His father stepped forward. Trevor knew that look. His instinct was to run. But he gripped his shoulder, holding Trevor in place.

"What happened to your neck?"

Trevor gulped. "She didn't mean to- I mean, I told her to bite me."

The words congealed in the air as Trevor spoke them. God, he really needed to think before he opened his mouth. It seemed to strike his father, an actual, physical blow causing him to recoil. Lord Belmont's mouth fell open. Trevor saw panic in his eyes.

"Wait, I know that sounds bad, but-" Trevor started.

His father brushed away his collar to inspect the bandages underneath. "She. Bit you?"

Trevor gulped. This wasn't going well. "I, uhh, told her too."

"God," Lord Belmont said. He scanned Trevor's face, and then took in the stain on his shoulder. "You look half-dead. She nearly killed you."

"We made a mistake. I wasn't supposed to bleed so much, except we were ambushed and-"

His father put up a hand. Something about the coldness of the gesture and his expression caused Trevor to trail off. 

"Father? We've stacked the bodies. What's next?" Istavan asked.

Lord Belmont looked past Trevor to his older brother. "Get a stake."

Aly whimpered. Trevor's father rounded on her.

"What?" Trevor said, "No, dad, you can't do this. She's not one of them. She's our ally. You're making a mistake."

He didn't even turn back to him. He strode to Aly, grabbed the back of her lace collar and shook her. "You bit him?"

Aly squeezed her eyes shut. She nodded.

"Dracula's hunting her. That's why he came back. There's some prophecy nonsense. She might be the only person who can kill him. Please- Dad, you have to listen to me," Trevor said. He looked at Aly. She was better at talking than he was. She certainly wouldn't have put her foot in her mouth like he'd just managed. She needed to defend herself, support Trevor's story, prove her innocence. 

Instead, her mouth opened and closed in small, gasping motions like a dying fish. Her eyes were dull and her shoulders slumped.

"Aly?" Trevor asked. He stepped forward and reached out to touch her shoulder.

A large hand came forward. Trevor's father held him by the chest, stopping him. He looked to Trevor's uncle. "Clearly she's compulsed him. Alexander, would you get him out of here? See if you can snap him out of it? I'll finish this."

Trevor grimaced. "I'm not- Dad, it's me. Y-you're making a terrible mistake!"

"Come on, Trevor. It's gonna be okay now. She can't hurt you," his uncle said. He took Trevor's hand and started leading him away.

Istavan stepped forward. He had a crudely sharpened piece of wood in his hands. 

"You can't do this!" Trevor said. He ripped himself out of his uncle's hold. He stumbled forward. He was tackled to the ground. George and Petru had gotten involved. 

"Sorry Trev," Petru said, "You're not in your right mind. Just don't look. This'll be over in a minute."

"Please-" Trevor choked out. He felt hot panic building into an overwhelming pressure behind his eyes. George held his waist and Petru had him by the shoulders, clearly trying not to touch the injury at his neck. "You can't!"

Lord Belmont raised the stake. He looked down at Aly coldly. She stared back up at him. Her face was numb with fear, strangely blank. She was a defeated statue kneeling in front of him. 

"This is for biting my son," Lord Belmont said. His arm arched down. The movement was well practiced- trained, inescapable. Trevor couldn't hear what he was screaming. What a stupid, terrible way for all of this to end.

And then everything went wrong. Utter darkness flashed across the room. Wind rushed through the hall. Trevor heard the curtains swaying, and underneath that a movement of the air itself that sounded like a hungry breath.

"Must you arrogant Belmonts interfere?" a low, echoing voice said.

Moonlight returned to the scene. Trevor blinked and raised his head. Petru let go of him and focused on unsheathing his sword. 

Lord Belmont turned, the stake still in hand. Aly ducked her head and started to pray.

Dracula was an impossible shadow in the moonlight. He raised an arm like a reaper's scythe into the air. His long talons seemed to rip through the light itself. He brought his hand down. His cloak fluttered. 

"Attack!"

"George, for fucks sake let me up!" Trevor said. Demons appeared, oozing out of the shadows or descending from the rafters or simply pulling themselves from the expansive folds of Dracula's cloak. Aly was a dark mass on the floor. Her prayer was lost in the hisses of monsters and the clash of weapons.

George clambered off of Trevor, drawing his sword. He wheeled around to face the demons as they approached. Dracula's army of demons was one thing. But Trevor saw other, more dangerous figures striding down the hall with Dracula. He recognized Raman, Godbrand and Cho. There were other vampires he did not recognize, except by the power they radiated.

The dagger in Trevor's hands suddenly felt very light and small. He backed up till he was standing alongside Petru and George. They cut down demons as they swarmed in. Istavan and his father and uncle were nearby, but unreachable from the other side of ranks of monsters. They faced the generals.

Trevor spared a look back and rage like a lightning strike flashed through his chest. Dracula still stood at the head of the hallway. He had not joined the fight. He was content to send his generals against Trevor's family, like he'd been content to send demons into Wallachia, rather than face his daughter himself.

Whatever his grandeur, his magic and his skill, Dracula was a coward. Trevor snarled.

"Trevor, wait, no!" Petru called.

Trevor cut a swath through the demons. He didn't care. He didn't care if it was impossible for him to win this fight. He wanted to drag Dracula down and make him do his own damn dirty work. If he was so dead set on killing his own fucking daughter, couldn't he at least have the decency to look her in the eyes and do the deed himself?

He made it three feet when dense mist swirled into the clearing he'd formed in front of him.

"Well, little Belmont. I see you're on your feet this time. Let's fix that." 

Cho pulled herself out of the heavy air. Half of her make-up was smeared off, and underneath that the skin on her face was red and blistered. She leered at him. 

Cho swooped in, a deadly fast hand angled to strike Trevor's face. Trevor ducked, gritted his teeth and got his dagger under her guard. He struck up, ripping through yellow silk. He heard a cackle. Cho vanished into mist again. Trevor staggered through her. He had to find Aly. He cut down a demon who jumped at him. He scanned the room.

It was chaos. He could just see Istavan and his uncle fighting a blur of sinuous blue motion he assumed was Raman. Godbrand descended on his father with a laugh, only to be repelled by his sword. But where was Aly? Was she still curled up and praying, or-?

Trevor gulped. Had she already been killed by a vampire, or a demon, or a goddamn Belmont while he wasn't looking?

"I wasn't done with you," Cho snarled. Cold hands gripped Trevor's shoulders. Cho pushed him to the floor and landed on top of him.

Trevor winced. He tried to squirm out from under her, but she pinned his arms in place, and kneed hard into his kidneys. He kicked. She didn't seem to notice. He felt her breath like a winter's chill on his nape.

"A little payback for biting my hand, no?" she said. She licked the uninjured side of Trevor's neck. Trevor froze. She wasn't going to be thoughtful or restrained like Aly. She would go for the jugular- and that would be the end. You didn't survive that.

She rose slightly, and Trevor closed his eyes. He waited for a lunge.

It never came. Instead, he heard Cho gasp as she was forced off of him.

Trevor rolled over, dagger still in hand. He expected to see Petru, or maybe his father. Instead, a pair of slender, black gloved hands grabbed Cho by the shoulders and stomach, forcing her back. Aly tilted her head to look at Trevor.

"Did she hurt you?"

"I'll kill both of you!" Cho said.

Trevor raised his dagger. He shook his head. "I'm fine."

He flew forward, aiming for Cho's chest. Cho hissed and vanished in another cloud of mist before he could strike. Aly swore and reached for the mist as though she could hold it. It dissipated between her fingers.

"Damn vampires," Trevor snarled.

"Enough!"

The call echoed like a shockwave around the room. Demons snapped their heads up to attention. They slunk instantly into the shadowy edges of the hallway. The generals retreated more reluctantly. Cho reappeared at Dracula's side. Raman slipped out of the coils of Istavan's whip and took a step back. As she moved, Trevor saw a familiar scabbard at her hip. Aly's silver sword. He hoped it was burning her.

Godbrand threw Lord Belmont to the floor with an irritated growl. But even he backed off.

"Alucard?" Dracula demanded, "Show yourself."

Trevor stepped forward. "Oh, you filthy hypocrite!" he shouted, "How many times have you sent your lackeys to kill her? And now you decide you want a fair-"

Aly put a hand on his shoulder. "Trevor?"

Trevor trailed off. He looked at her- really looked at her. What he saw frightened him. She was resigned. She was unarmed. She looked so damn tired. 

Aly gave him a tiny smile. "Thank you," she said, in that tone of voice that meant 'goodbye'. 

She slipped between stunned Belmonts, into the no-man's land between humans and vampires. She was so fucking beautiful and so utterly screwed. Trevor swallowed a lump. He started forward after her. 

This time, three Belmonts held him back.

Trevor made to protest. He tried to think of some words he could say that could possibly help. He had a strange sense that screaming "No!" at Aly's back wasn't going to work.

* * *

 

No one laughed.

That had always been Aly's first fear. That someone would laugh at her. She tried not to look at Godbrand, or the Belmonts, or any of the spawn. She didn't want to look at Cho or Raman. And if she looked backwards to Trevor, who she could still hear struggling behind her, who the Belmont's had held back, if she looked back at him and saw his face breaking open and desperate, she would lose her nerve.

She felt alone and exposed. She didn't want to think about how many people were looking at her. 

For the first five steps, she stared at her own feet, measuring her paces, counting down how many she would get before Dracula killed her. On the sixth, she raised her head. There was no one else to look at. She stared at Dracula.

His face was like a crumpled piece of parchment. The heavy lines and folds obscured his black eyes. His expression was unreadable. His mouth was slightly open, just enough that she could see his teeth.

He shifted. His eyes found Aly's. Aly took a step forward. She saw regret in those black, beady eyes. 

The bravery inside Aly broke. Tears formed in her eyes. But for once, she wasn't overwhelmed by fear, or by dread or sadness. She saw Dracula for what he was. He was just a selfish old man, loving his own power and afraid of the miniscule threat she posed. He didn't want to kill her. He thought he had to. Aly stared up at him through a haze of red tears and she hated him.

She hated him. Pure disgust ran up her spine like a shiver. It sang from her shoulders down her arms, set fire to her fingertips. Something was burning. Something was calling her name clear and beautiful as a silver bell. Something off to her right sang, "Alanna, Alanna" in her mother's voice.

God she just wanted to see her mother again. She'd just wanted to live, anonymous and safe and passing. She's just wanted to be a girl and the whole damn world had decided to get involved. And Dracula was the black epicenter of all of it, a shadow like a rotting pit in the center of a bitter fruit. 

He'd ruined everything.

Her vision was red. She was striding forward now. Her fingers itched and her name was in her ears. She was halfway across the hall and still Dracula hadn't moved. 

Aly stretched out her hand. Something silver flashed and responded to her summons. Someone- Raman, gasped and snarled. The holy sword flew into Aly's hand. 

Vampires snarled. They flew in- countless black cloaks and claws fingers and sharp teeth closing in to rip her apart.

Aly's rage spread open. She wouldn't be beaten by this. If Dracula really believed that she was a threat to him, well dammit she had no choice but to try to prove him right. She wouldn't be beaten by his lackeys, by demons, by vampires. She hadn't yet. Somehow she had held on in spite of everything that should have killed her. And she could attribute those escapes to her mother, to Trevor, to sheer luck. But maybe- maybe- some of that had been her. 

Aly stepped forward as though she could dodge the small army of vampires descending on her. Her vision turned red and her movement somehow brought a rush of adrenaline and the hiss of air on her face. Her stomach lurched and her limbs twisted. Something flashed. 

And suddenly she was right in front of him. Dracula. With her silver sword. Her vision was clear, even if she could feel tears dripping down her face. Somehow, she'd gotten halfway across the hall in a single step. Aly didn't care. She brought her weapon up and pressed it over Dracula's heart. 

She heard him gasp. Aly made a mistake. She looked up.

Dracula's eyes were wide. He stared back at her. A tiny trail of smoke slithered up from where her sword pricked his chest. 

Aly saw a man who was terrified of death. Fresh tears streamed down her face. She had to kill him- she had to. He was evil. He had ruined her life. He had brought her to this and she would never be free unless she killed him right now. 

Aly gripped the sword in both hands. She gritted her teeth and braced her shoulders and willed herself to force it in. She willed herself to be Alucard.

And she couldn't. She wasn't. She couldn't meet a set of scared, all too human eyes and kill someone. She wasn't a warrior. Killing demons in the wild heat of a moment where her death was the only imminent option was one thing but a man- something who had once been a man?

"I can't," Aly said. Her shoulders fell. She took a step back.

"Alu- Alanna?" Dracula started. He stirred as though waking from a dream, and reached for her.

Aly gulped. She pulled herself away. She just avoided his hand. She ran, slipping down the hall and into the hostile shadows and away from everyone- everyone- who wanted her dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter where I had to give the rest of the Belmonts names. Slavic names? Romanian names? French names? Celtic names?! Who knows? (But, for the record, I went with partially anglicized versions of Slavic names).
> 
> Also the chapter where Aly figures out how to use a tiny inkling of her magic. And fails, utterly, anyway. Cause tbh I already killed Drac in one fic and I wanted to do something different this time.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos deeply, deeply appreciated. We should have two, maybe three more chapters left. It's been a fun ride!


	10. Failure

Aly ran until her chest burned and her feet were numb. She ran until she couldn't think or speak. She ran until tears stopped rolling down her face. She ran until she collapsed. She sank to her knees and clutched the silver sword to keep from falling completely.

For an unknowable length of time, Aly simply sat in a heap, imagining footsteps under the settling beat of her own heart, waiting. Either she could find the strength to sit up again, or someone would find her. 

She understood now. There was no where in the world where she would ever be safe, nowhere she fit. She was so tired.

She couldn't do it. She put her hands over her head, grabbed a lock of hair that had fallen from her braid and tugged, feeling the pull of helpless frustration. She could have killed him. Or rather, someone else, in her place, could have killed him. If Trevor had been the one holding the sword to Dracula's heart, he would have done it without hesitation, let the momentum of the blade carry him forward and sink it in.

She wasn't a warrior. She wasn't Alucard. She'd never killed anyone, never seen someone die, never considered taking life. She'd been raised by a theologian and a doctor. Whatever Trevor had claimed about her instincts, she couldn't do it.

Or maybe she was just a coward. Aly had never considered her meekness a problem until now. She'd never had to be brave.

Now, the one time she'd been called upon, she'd failed.

* * *

 

Trevor Belmont sat in a cold, stone cell with his head in his hands, trying to think. He hurt. He was bruised in several places and dizzy from the blood loss and being thrown to the ground. 

He was alive. All of them were alive, for now. Uncle Alexander leaned on the wall on the cell opposite Trevor's. He'd ripped up his tunic to bandage a deep slash on his stomach. He was pale and sweating. Lord Belmont paced in the cell beside his brother's, unrecognizable without his sword and whip. But Petru's condition was the one that scared Trevor. He'd slumped onto the floor hours ago. He didn't respond when his name was called. 

Trevor couldn't see George or Istavan on the cells on either side of his, but neither sounded like they were in good shape. 

Each of them was beaten to shit. They'd been thrown into cells in the early morning, before dawn. No one had water. There was nothing to eat. The descent of evening was not going to improve anything. Trevor heard the old building coming to life with the snarls and screeches of demons. It would only be a matter of time before something came to see them.

Trevor curled himself further into the corner of his cell. He'd heard a door open at the end of the hall. Someone padded lightly across the room. A skirt hissed.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted it to be Aly. But the steps were too calm and too smug.

Aly had gotten so fucking close that for one glorious moment Trevor had thought they had a chance. When the silver sword had flown out of Raman's scabbard and into her hand, Trevor had felt a wave of pure magical force radiate across the room. He'd gasped as he watched her vanish in a red flash and appear- perfect, vampiric, devastating, before her father.

For one moment, he'd believed the prophecy nonsense. And to judge by Dracula's stunned face, he had too.

No. It was like expecting a daisy to poison, or sending a puppy to war. Of course Aly couldn't kill him. 

At least she'd gotten away.

"What's this then?" Istavan demanded, "Had a nice nap and now you're looking for a snack?"

Raman stepped into view. She sneered into the cell to Trevor's right. "Believe me, Belmont. I'd love to. But- no."

"What does Dracula want with us?" Lord Belmont demanded.

Raman ignored him. She reached Trevor's cell and peered in at him. 

"Lord Dracula requests an audience."

Trevor raised his head. "What?"

"No," Lord Belmont said, "Leave my son alone. He- he was never supposed to be involved in this."

"Come here, boy," Raman said. She extended her hand, and then twisted it around the other in a complicated motion. 

Trevor shivered. The ghosts of hands ran across his body. They pressed his chest and uncurled him. He straightened and walked mechanically to the bars. Trevor gritted his teeth. His muscles strained against the spell. He couldn't resist. He was weak. He was starving, and the only thing he'd drank in two days was the tea Aly had offered him. He gasped and gave up, letting the spell move him as though he was being pulled by strings. 

He looked down. Stray shadows danced across his arms and legs, like distortions under water. He remembered the living darkness Raman had conjured in her hand. Clearly, this was something similar, and it wasn't just for attracting attention.

"Please!" Lord Belmont called, "He's injured. Don't- take me instead. I was in charge of all of this."

Raman turned to him. "This is the Belmont he wants."

"Me?" Trevor rasped. He shuddered. What did Dracula want with him? Of all the Belmonts, he had the least blood to give. 

Raman produced a key and opened the cell door. "Believe me," she said dryly, "I do not understand his interest."

The door creaked open.

She twisted her hand and Trevor's feet fell into step behind her. They walked past the cells holding his brothers. He couldn't move his head, but out of the corner of his eyes he saw fear on his family's faces.

He wasn't ready. He was the youngest. Lord Belmont had never intended for him to be involved. He'd been sent away on a simple escort mission, going the opposite direction from the fight. None of it had mattered. Here he was, trapped in a spell. Dracula wanted him.

Wanted to turn him into a corpse, most likely. 

Raman wasn't even bothering to watch him. She simply strode ahead of him through the door, knowing her spell would carry him through after. The door shut behind them. 

Trevor sagged into the spell. Might as well make the vampire do all the work. 

"So, are you, like, his errand girl?" Trevor asked.

Raman didn't respond.

"His thrall?" Trevor tried.

One of Raman's fingers twitched. Trevor suddenly regained control of his left leg. He almost fell over, and only the shadowy bonds on his other leg and arms kept him upright. His foot dragged strangely before he recovered his balance.

"A servant, then?"

Raman continued forward. "Your flimsy tactics would work better on Cho. Or Godbrand."

"So it's working, is what you're saying?"

"No, Belmont," Raman said. She reached the end of the hall and an intricate metal cage opened up in front of her. She stepped in. Trevor was dragged after her. "But if you must know- he defeated each of us. In grand duels that make a pittance of your theatrical heroics. He ended decades long feuds and established a hierarchy of vampires beneath him. I have my own kingdom and duties to attend to. I do not relish being called here to settle a domestic squabble."

"She's still alive then?" Trevor said, "Aly?"

Raman looked over at him. He hoped she didn't notice that one of his legs was no longer covered in shadows. 

"Yes," Raman said after a short pause. The cage door shut with a rattle. The floor lurched. 

"Oh shit," Trevor said, staring at the floor.

Raman laughed at his horror as they ascended at startling speed. "Dracula awaits."

Trevor gulped. "Does he have to?"

The lift ground to a halt just as abruptly as it started. Raman forced the door open. She leered back at Trevor. "Scared, Belmont?"

Trevor felt his spelled foot lurch forward, towards the exit Raman held open for him. He gritted his teeth. He had one chance to get this right. He brought his free foot forward, and jammed it into the gap between the lift and the floor. 

"I suppose that is a rational response," Raman said. She started to laugh. 

Trevor's other foot lurched forward. He tripped and fell into Raman. 

Raman hissed, slipping out of the way on instinct. It worked. The spell broke, like Trevor had stepped out of cold water. He staggered forward before he'd even registered that his limbs were free. He was clear of the lift before the gate slammed shut. He got to his feet and started to run.

Aly was still alive. He needed to find her. Which was a slightly better plan than waiting to be eaten by Dracula.

Trevor raised his head. He was dizzy. The red curtains blurred into the shadows in the edges of the hallway. Silver candelabra leered at him. His stomach growled. His ankle hurt every time he forced himself forward, and Trevor vaguely considered that wrenching it in the gap of a magical lift machine had been a poor plan.

He spied an adjoining hall ahead of him and almost ran into a wall as he tried to turn. 

From in front of him, someone laughed. 

Trevor gulped. He recognized the shirtless, wild-eyed vampire that had stepped into the corridor in front of him. He tried to stop, and pain stabbed up from his foot. Trevor winced. He fumbled at his hips for weapons he hadn't had for days.

Trevor just avoided falling into Godbrand's arms. The vampire smirked and tackled him to the ground.

"What's this? A little Belmont got lost?"

"Fuck you," Trevor said.

Godbrand snarled. He raised a hand, spreading his fingers to show off his long claws. 

"Godbrand!" Raman snapped. 

Godbrand brought his hand down to strike. Trevor saw the movement in the jerk of his bare shoulder. But his arm was stuck at the wrist. 

"What the--?" Godbrand started. He looked up. Shifting shadows wrapped around his wrist. He jerked at the magical restraint. It held. 

"Dracula wants to see him," Raman said.

"I wasn't gonna kill him," Godbrand said, "Just, you know. Teach him his place."

Raman strode forward. She grabbed his shoulder and forced him off of Trevor. "You know Lord Dracula's instructions. No random bloodletting. No needless killing."

"He's a Belmont," Godbrand said.

"He is a child."

"I'm right fucking here you know," Trevor said.

"Fine," Godbrand said. He stood up, shoving himself out of Raman's hold. "Dracula will teach him respect." He grumbled and stormed down the hall.

"Idiot," Raman hissed.

"Are you talking about him, or-?"

"Both of you," Raman said. She grabbed a fistful of Trevor's hair. "Apparently, I must deliver you by hand." She forced Trevor upright and led him down the hall to a fine, dark varnished wooden door. She knocked.

"Come in," a low, commanding voice answered.

Raman pushed Trevor through. He gulped.

Dracula sat at a study, his head propped on one grey hand. He had an odd collection of objects strewn in front of him. Trevor saw dried herbs and a couple of small vials, a black glove, a roll of bandages. There was a compact of pink powder and a creased, yellow piece of paper with a lady's long, cursive script on it. 

Trevor's hands curled into fists. He recognized the simple, canvas bag at the edge of Dracula's desk. These were Aly's things.

"The Belmont, my lord."

Dracula looked up. He lifted his head and gestured for Trevor to come forward. Raman dragged him into the fire light. 

"Sit down," Dracula said, indicating the chair.

"Look, if you're gonna bite me, I'd really prefer we skip the niceties."

Dracula raised an eyebrow. He searched Trevor's face as Raman forced him into view. He stood up. It felt like the room got noticeably darker. Dracula stepped around his desk. His cold hand gripped Trevor's chin. He forced his head up.

"He isn't well," Dracula said. He tilted Trevor's head from side to side. "Has he been given food? Water?"

"I-- don't believe so, my lord."

"I'm not an animal," Trevor said. 

Dracula blinked. "Of course." He let go of Trevor's chin and stepped back. He motioned for the chair on the other side of his desk. "Sit down, Belmont."

"Please," he added, when Trevor simply stared. 

"You heard him," Raman hissed. She grabbed his collar and forced him down into the chair.

"General Raman?"

"My lord?" Raman asked.

"Thank you," Dracula said, "Leave us."

"Of course," Raman said. Trevor heard her withdraw. The door closed. He was alone in a room with his family's mortal enemy. Trevor gulped. His head ached and his stomach growled. His ankle twinged from where he'd pulled it, and his neck spasmed every time he tried to turn his head. He closed his eyes. Whatever Dracula intended to do with him, he didn't have the strength to stop it. 

Dracula sighed. He sounded tired. Trevor heard him pouring water.

"It's Trevor, is it not?"

Trevor didn't answer. He barely bothered to open his eyes as Dracula stepped to his side. Dracula pressed a metal cup into his hands.

Trevor looked down. He raised the cup to his nose. Its contents looked like water. He couldn't smell anything strange in the cup.

"If I wanted you dead--"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Trevor said. He made a rude gesture at Dracula. "You'd have killed me already. I get it. But I don't want to be fucking turned either."

"I have no intention of turning you."

Trevor shrugged. He drained the cup.

"You traveled with her. Is that correct?"

Trevor looked up over the rim of the cup. Dracula had returned to his seat. He tapped his fingers on the wood desk, and then rolled a vial absently between his fingers. His face was blank, but there was agitation in his hands. 

When Trevor said nothing, Dracula sighed. He smoothed his hands out on the desk. "You traveled with my daughter?"

"I mean, yeah."

"What can you tell me about her?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fight didn't go well once Dracula got involved. Also, Godbrand is still the worst. : P
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos mean a lot- they help me sustain these creative projects!


	11. Visions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Transphobia. Please stay safe everyone!

Aly raised her head. She was still alone. How much time had passed? 

It was dark again. This whole castle was a mausoleum. There was so little light and so many ghosts. She shivered. She was cold and stiff. Her legs were numb. She brushed her face and flakes of long-dried blood fell off onto her fingers.

Then she saw it. Aly froze. She's seen something move out in her peripherals. She waited, stretching out her senses, trying to hear over the wild pump of her own heart. She heard a distant, lifeless buzzing. From somewhere far away, she recognized the screech of a demon as it echoed through those endless hallways. 

There was nothing living near her. She cautiously turned her head, bringing her arm around. Her tingling fingers were still clasped around the silver sword. At this point, she wasn't certain she could let go of it.

Something grey flickered in response. 

Aly winced. She rose on stiff legs. She was in a small room that had long been disused. Dust eddied around her as she got to her feet. There were a couple of crates in one corner, and a chair covered in a white cloth nearby. Now that she'd stirred the air, the smell of mildew was overwhelming. Aly put her sleeve over her face, saw movement nearby once more, and finally realized what she was seeing.

Of course it would be a mirror. The ancient, silver thing took up most of one wall. Clearly it had been covered by another white cloth, but some of the old material had ripped, and a small section of the reflective surface of the metal glimmered at her through the tear.

Of all the loathsome things she could find, it seemed ironically appropriate for it to be something like this. Aly hated mirrors. For the longest time, her mother had simply accepted that as a part of her nature; the vampire in her baulking at the sight of silver. 

No. Aly hated being confronted by her own body. It was a fine, strange, serviceable thing until she had to look at it and be reminded of her broad jaw. Why couldn't she have been born like Cho, with the ability to vanish into mist at will? She would love that now, to simply not be for a couple of minutes, to move with the flowing dust, weightless and thoughtless. Anything would be a welcome escape from her own mind.

Yes, even her own disappointing reflection would be a relief. It was better than thinking about how she'd failed.

Aly ripped the old, yellowing cloth from the mirror. She could at least make sure there was no more blood caked onto her face. God, what was she after all? Half of a monster was still a monster. Her thirst had caused everything to go wrong.

The cloth crumpled at Aly's feet. She stared at the metal surface as though she was brave. Her own, gold eyes looked back at her. She grimaced. Rusty, dark red flakes were caught in her tear ducts. She brushed them away and cleared the trails that had dried on her cheeks.

Countless strands of hair had fallen out of her braid. Aly shook her head. She peeled her fingers from around the hilt of the silver sword. The weapon clattered to the floor. She undid the tie and started to comb her fingers through her hair.

This was laughable, pointless frivolity. She was going to be found out. She would be killed for something she wasn't. And the only act of resistance she could think of was to cling to these feminine rituals.

"I'm not him," Aly hissed. She closed her eyes, braiding her hair back by feeling alone. "Not him. Not him."

"Then what are you?"

Aly's eyes shot back open. She stepped back, still holding onto her partially woven braid. "Who's there?"

A strange voice giggled. "Poor confused half-breed."

Aly furrowed her brow. The strange voice echoed through the small room around her. She twisted, trying to follow it. The voice confused her. It itched in her ears and lingered in her mind, sounding achingly familiar. When Aly realized what she was hearing, she gasped. The voice was her own, or at least a distortion of it, higher pitched and more melodic.

Goosebumps squirmed up Aly's arms. She looked back to the mirror. Her hands fell to her sides. She gasped.

It wasn't her reflection. The figure that starred back at her was far worse. She had Aly's grey skin and gold hair. She was wearing the same, burgundy dress. She filled it out with the lovely arc of her hips and bosom. Her face was soft and alluring. Her nose was smaller than Aly's, her jaw slighter, her shoulders slight and narrow.

Aly stared at the rendering of everything she wished she was. The vision moved. She pushed a hand through her hair, and gold waves cascaded down her shoulders. She stepped forward and leered at Aly. She brought her other hand down to her crotch and smoothed over the material of her dress there, showing off her lack of bulge.

Aly hissed. 

Then the vision took another step forward. The edge of her skirt pressed into the mirrors surface. A ripple went out across the silver. This unreal symbol of all of the physical things that tormented Aly stepped out. Her skirts hissed and her nails tapped on the frame as she pulled herself through.

Aly took a step back. "W-what is this?"

Her double's plump lip curled. "Everything you want to be- and aren't." 

Aly gritted her teeth. "Go away."

"Oh you poor confused thing," she said, "What, do you think that putting on dresses and growing out your hair can make you what you're not? You're just a pathetic little boy hiding in your mother's shadow."

Aly gulped. She kept retreating from the mirror. "Shut up."

"You're a perversion," the image informed her. She sidled forward with the deliberate, exaggerated sway of her hips. She swiped up the silver sword in an elegant motion. "A confused, broken little deviant the world is better without."

"I'm just a girl," Aly whispered.

"You were always an abomination that needed to be kept hidden. And when the time came, what did you do? You ran, and hid, and sniveled and let real men die for you."

"Now it's over. The Belmonts are caught. Your mother is nearly turned. Do you have the stones to face your death like a man?"

"No," Aly said. She bumped into a wall. She lost her balance and caught herself on one knee. This double was very close. Aly smelled sweet peas and smoke from her. She gagged.

"Are you going to cry again?" the vision asked. She laughed. "Do it. Sob and wail, and then Dracula can finally put an end to all your ridiculous little games."

Aly squeezed her eyes tighter shut. She put her hands over her ears. She felt hot tears welling up behind her eyes. She gasped as solid metal pressed to her chest. It stung. The silver of her own sword seeped like an infection into her body. The double stood over her.

"Wait," Aly said. She blinked, raised her head, and considered the vision standing over her. "You're real."

Her lip curled. "Of course I am."

"To hell with you, then."

Aly flickered her fingers and the sword answered, the blade twisting in a wide, slashing arc as the hilt fell into her grasp. She pressed her other hand into the wall. She found purchase and picked herself up.

"Finally manned up?"

"Oh please. You think you can break me with that?" Aly said, "As though I haven't heard it all before? Thought it all before? Put myself through hell and made it out the other side?" She snapped into motion. Stepping forward, she wrapped one arm around the vision's chest, and put her blade to the things throat.

She was solid. This thing was not just some horrid realization of all of Aly's shame. She hissed and flinched away from Aly's sword. But Aly held her fast.

"Where is my mother?" Aly asked.

"Pathetic boy!" she snarled.

"You mentioned," Aly said, almost lazily. She'd been through all of this before, but never with an adversary who she could have the catharsis of holding a blade to.

"You'll come to nothing," the vision spat. She struggled in Aly's hold. Her words held less power now that there was an edge of fear in her voice. "You're weak. Cowardly. Confused."

"You said she was nearly turned. Where is she?"

"What?"

"Tell me where Lisa of Lupu is, or I will relieve you of your head."

The creature hissed.

Aly pressed her blade closer to her skin. The grey flesh started to smoke. She tried to reason out where to slice. The jugular would do. "Tell me where she is, or I will see if you look like me on the inside too."

"You won't be able to save her," she said.

"I'm going to try," Aly said. She shifted her blade. The blood flowed red, but it was watery and smelled like brimstone. She wrinkled her nose.

"Wait," the vision hissed. 

Aly paused. She used her other hand to squeeze the vision's waist. "Yes?"

"She's in the infirmary. But you won't be able to-"

"Where is the infirmary?" Aly asked. 

The vision sidestepped and tried to fall forward. It would be so easy to shift her blade and simply let these awful double impale herself on Aly's sword. Instead, Aly gritted her teeth and fell with her, pinning her to the ground. 

Aly sighed. She did what Raman had done to her. She grabbed the vision's hair and tugged, dragging her head up. "Where is my mother?"

"West wing," the double growled. 

"More specific," Aly said. She looked up. She could see both of them in the mirror, and the creature underneath her was not her double. She was simultaneously far more human than Aly, and much more monstrous. She wasn't grey skinned. But her eyes were solid black, and bright red bat wings flapped helplessly from her shoulders under Aly's weight. 

A succubus. Aly shook her head. She jerked at the demon's hair another time. She brought the blade into view in front of her eyes.

"Past the laboratory. You- just take a right at this hallway."

"Alright," Aly said. She stepped off of the succubus's back. She kept her hands tangled in her hair. She had her sword ready. "Lead the way."

 

"Do you know what he'll do to you?" the succubus hissed, "When he finally catches you?"

Aly started them walking down the hallway. Her fingers were still wrapped into the succubus's hair, and she kept her blade lightly pressed between her shoulders.

The succubus detailed the various ways Aly would be tortured, impaled and executed. Aly gritted her teeth and focused on watching her movements. This demon was trying to get a rise out of her. 

"Please just shut up," Aly said. 

"You should kill yourself while you have the chance," the demon said.

"Look," Aly said. She jerked the succubus back by the hair, bringing their heads close, "You really need to be quiet."

The demon sneered at her. "So the vampires don't find you?"

"So they don't find us."

She narrowed her eyes at Aly. "Why would I--?"

"Do you think Dracula will pause to figure out which one of us is real? Or will he murder us both?" Aly asked, "I wonder- how does it feel to be disembowled?"

The succubus winced.

"If you have any sense of self-preservation," Aly said, "You'll take me to my mother. No demons. No vampires. No games."

"Fine," the succubus said. She led her through shadowy passages with only the occasional rude remark or cruel threat. Aly answered by poking her with the sword. 

Aly paused after a tense twenty minutes of walking. There was open sky ahead of them, just lighter than the ceiling and pin pricked with stars. As she watched, a smattering of stars were smeared out. Something had flown over them. Aly chewed on her lip. 

An open air courtyard sprawled out in front of them. Aly scanned the crumpled gargoyles and the fountain that dribbled with something less pleasant than water. Nothing moved. 

Aly adjusted her grip and put her blade at the back of the succubus's neck, next to the small wound there that had already scabbed over. She used her elbow to indicate the shadows at the edge of the courtyard.

"Not a sound out of you," Aly said, "We go that way."

They inched across the courtyard. Aly didn't dare to breath again until they were on the other side, and entered a laboratory that, in any other circumstance, Aly wouldn't have been able to resist exploring.

"She's being turned," the succubus informed her, "You can't save her. This is pointless."

"Listen," Aly said, "The only reason you're alive right now is to take me to her. If you can't manage that, well-" She adjusted her grip on her sword, as though she wasn't a coward, and she could kill something that seemed so human.

The succubus shrugged. She pointed a delicate hand left, down a surprisingly well lit passage. They passed what looked like lightning trapped in a glass globe. Aly heard it crackle. She took a deep breath. 

A door loomed in front of them. Between the buzzing lights and the crackling of static, Aly felt like she was walking into the center of a machine. She braced herself. Whatever she was going to find at the other side of the door, she had to be brave.

"Open the door," Aly said.

The succubus obliged. She turned the handle. Silver moonlight flowed out into the hallway, fighting against the electric light. 

"Good," Aly said, "Now run." She withdrew the sword and motioned back down the hall.

The succubus stepped back. But she didn't run. She paused just outside the range of Aly's sword, and tilted her head. "You ought to kill me. You know that, right?"

"Please just go," Aly said. She spared one last look back and waived the demon away. She took a deep breath, and started into the room.

Aly got through the door frame. She pressed the door closed, leaned into the wood, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The succubus's footsteps echoed down the hallway. She wasn't ready. Aly had been staring down this possibility for almost a month now, trying to accept what her mother's kidnapping had meant.

Lisa Demetriscue lay in the moonlight. The blanket tucked up to her chin looked like a funeral pall. The cloth barely moved. If Aly looked at her face, would she find it unearthly grey, her features sharp and cruel, her lips drawn back to reveal pointed teeth?

Aly pressed the back of her head into the wood. She exhaled slowly, trying to focus and let go of everything she'd done, everything she'd seen. The point of this was to save Lisa. The point had always been to save Lisa. This was her chance.

Everything she had learned about medicine from her mother; everything she had learned about spiritually overcoming evil from her father; finally this was something that she should be well suited for. Aly pushed herself into the room and forced herself to look at her mother as a doctor would. 

Her face was grey and strained, even in the light. Her breathing was shallow. But her heart rate was what scared Aly. It was low, erratic and loud. Aly heard it from the door. Now it was overwhelming. She put a hand on Lisa's forehead. 

She was cold, right? Aly ground her teeth. She couldn't tell, when her own hands were so chilled. 

Aly peeled the blanket away and grabbed Lisa's arm. She held her wrist between her hands and pressed her fingers to her pulse point and waited and prayed.

This wasn't good. Her poor color and wild pulse were warnings. 

"Mother?" Aly said. She squeezed her hand. "Mother? I'm here. I-I'm sorry I took so long. Please don't be done yet. Not yet."

A thin breath escaped from between Lisa's lip. Her brow furrowed. Her fingers twitched slightly in Aly's grip. Aly gulped. She'd keep talking, then. She'd keep talking, and she'd help warm Lisa up. And she'd hope.

"You have to be stronger than this," Aly said. She carefully restored Lisa's hand and twisted, looking around the room. Her instinct was to pick Lisa up and run. They needed to run. As though there was anywhere in the world where they could hide from Dracula. As though she could move Lisa, when just lifting up her arm seemed to pain her.

Aly caught herself shivering. She was getting cold. Panic threatened to paralyze her. The room was chilly. 

"No," Aly said. She shook herself. She bent over and clawed through the contents of a cupboard beside the bed. "You- you are stronger than this."

She grabbed a blanket and shook it out. Dust flowed through the room. It flew back into Aly's eyes. She blinked. She remembered the words she was speaking. 

Suddenly, Aly was six years old again, standing beside her mother. Her feet were in the dirt. It was a cloudy afternoon, and the vague light leered at her. Red pulsed lurid out of the scene. Aly put her hands over her ears, trying not to hear the blood from the tiny scrape on the back of Lisa's hand.

They'd been trimming dogrose. 

"Aly? You're stronger than this," Lisa said, "Take a deep breath. Focus yourself."

Aly dragged in a breath. She was shaking like a leaf. "Can't."

"You are more than this curse," Lisa said, "You can beat this. You are in control. I believe in you."

Aly shook her head and pulled herself out of the memory. She wrapped the blanket around her mother. She pressed a hand to her clammy forehead. And Aly was dragged back in. In deep.

 

Lisa of Lupu was up to her nape in blood. It plastered her dress to her body. It dripped in long streams down her shoulders. It was rising. It was so close to drowning her.

"Momma?" Aly asked. She reached out a child's soft, chubby hand. She was standing in the garden again. Darkness seeped in from the murky edge of her memory. Lisa was in that darkness- in the blood. She shivered and wretched. She was still fighting.

Aly stepped forward. Her toes brushed the dark that lapped like water. Aly recoiled. It felt strange, hostile and alive. The dark had a will of its own. It hissed at her.

"Mother?" Aly called out, "I'm here. How can I help?"

Lisa didn't seem to hear. She pulled herself briefly out of the blood, staggering up. Her blue eyes were clouded. "Vlad?" she croaked, "Please."

"Mother? Lisa? It's me."

Lisa slumped back into the blood. She held herself up with her hands, trembling. She was one stumble from being drowned.

Aly called out. She stretched her hand and started forward. The darkness fought her. It had the same alien, buzzing character as the shadows in the castle. It knew her- hated her- called her by a meaningless name. Aly snarled.

No. She was tired of being beaten by this; by darkness and whatever everyone thought her nature was. She didn't know about demons or magic or prophecies, and three weeks ago she couldn't have explained what a parry was. But she knew Dracula's curse. It was her own. She could fight it. She had reckoned with it and made his thirst her own.

Aly withdrew her hand. She curled it into a fist. Could she smash her way through the darkness? Force herself through, as though she was somehow stronger than Dracula?

No. That was ridiculous. That was like trying to face him down with a sword. It Aly was going to win, it would be the way her mother had helped her overcome her own thirst; willpower. It was sheer stubbornness that had borne Aly through so far. Maybe- maybe- it could get her a little farther.

Aly uncurled her fingers. She extended them gently into the dark. 

It fought her. The shadows crackled up her digits. It distorted her nails, turning them long and pointed. Aly shook her head. She took a step forward.

Dracula's curse swarmed in on her. It clawed at her skin. Aly's legs wobbled. She swayed. Pressing her arms to her hips, she steadied herself. She clenched her jaw and gasped when she felt two pricks in her lower gums. Her fangs had never been that long.

Aly forced her other leg forward. She looked up. The world was dark, and the edges of her vision throbbed red. Lisa was still impossibly far away. The humming wracked down Aly's shoulders and hit her spine. Suddenly, she couldn't feel her feet. She pressed her eyes closed and willed her legs to move. Nothing happened.

"Mother?" Aly called out. Even her voice was shaking. 

Lisa twisted, turning to her with unseeing eyes. "Aly? Is that? Is that you?"

"Yes, I'm,"

"He did it, then," Lisa said. Her voice broke. "He k-killed you."

"What?" Aly said, "No!"

"The- there's not point to this anymore," Lisa said. Her shaking shoulders gave out with a defeated twang. She fell forward. 

"No!"

Cold claws of darkness ripped at Aly's body and the buzzing was overwhelming. She was too far away. Lisa crumpled in slow motion, sinking into the blood. And then the crimson color at the edges of Aly's vision consumed everything. Nothingness flew past her. She was moving, and also utterly still. Her hand brushed cloth.

Aly's vision cleared. She held her mother, one hand on her chest to stop her face from touching the pool.

"I'm alive," Aly said, "Mother- please."

"Y-you're?"

"I'm here," Aly said. She gripped Lisa's shoulder and lifted her back up. 

Lisa raised her head. Her eyes were still blue, and clear this time. The tears that flowed from them were just water.

"I'm," Aly started, "I'm so sorr-"

"No," Lisa said. She shook her head. She patted weakly at Aly's shoulders. "You found me."

Aly sighed. She wrapped her arms around her mother and held her tightly. Lisa had protected her from the human world. Could she protect Lisa from this one?

"H-how did you possibly-?" Lisa started.

"I don't know," Aly said, "But let's not linger."

Lisa squeezed her as tightly as she could manage. She sobbed. 

Aly heard a hiss. She looked around. The overwhelming buzzing sensation had faded. Her fangs had returned to normal and her hands, pressed to Lisa's shoulders, had fine, carefully trimmed nails again.

Aly laughed. She squeezed Lisa in return. "We- we made it." She looked down. The pool of blood had drained away into a handful of crimson drops on the floor. The darkness had receded and they stood in a pool of grey, meager light.

After all, Aly was not light or darkness. She was somewhere in the middle.

"Can you walk?" 

Lisa raised her head. Some portion of a mother's pride pulled at her overdrawn lips. "Of course I can."

"Yes. Of course," Aly said. She took her mother's hand and led her gently back into the light.

 

"Well this is bloody touching, ain't it?"

Aly returned to her body with a jerk. She staggered back.

There was someone in the doorway, backlit by the buzzing, yellow light. His wild hair stood at matted angles. He stepped towards the moonlight and cracked his knuckles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter. Thanks everyone for sticking with this! It's been super hard to keep up motivation for this fic, but I want to be finished. Part of the point of writing fanfic has been for me to learn how to successfully finish projects. I'm going to finish this.
> 
> Aly and Lisa are reunited! With one big, insane viking of an obstacle between them and survival. Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos mean a lot to me.


	12. Godbrand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW- transphobia (fuck Godbrand). Stay safe everyone!

"This shoulda been over a month ago," Godbrand said. He closed the door behind him.

Aly gulped. She heard Lisa stirring under the blanket. She flicked her fingers and drew the silver sword into her hand. She took a step forward, standing between Lisa and Godbrand.

"Aly, what is-? You!" Lisa croaked. Aly heard her heartbeat and her painful breathing as she tried to rise. "Don't you dare touch her!"

Aly loosened her shoulders and stepped into a proper stance. It lent her a confidence she didn't feel. "Don't worry. He won't."

"So you've got balls after all," Godbrand said.

Aly sighed. She stretched her blade forward and pointed it at Godbrand's chest. "Please shut up."

Godbrand bared his teeth. He took a step forward and ducked into a predatory gate. "I don't care what's come over Drac. I'll kill you myself- and he can thank me later."

"I suppose you can try," Aly said, as though the look in his eyes didn't send a chill down her spine. She kept her blade trained on Godbrand's chest. 

Godbrand snarled. He lunged in. 

Aly winced. Her instinct was to dodge. But Lisa was in the bed behind her. The arch of Godbrand's disgusting claws endangered them both. Instead, Aly forced her blade up and braced her shoulders. 

"No!" Lisa called out.

Godbrand slammed into her sword. He roared as his hands sizzled. He stepped back with a curse. 

Aly shook the frighteningly strong blow out of her arms and shoulders. She adjusted her stance and moved forward. 

"H-how?" Lisa said. Aly saw the same incredulity in Godbrand's face as she heard in her voice. Except he was enraged, and the raw red marks now on his arms were only egging him on. Aly gulped.

"Fine boy. You want a fight?" Godbrand growled. He drew his sword. It was a large, grimy broadsword that he wielded like it was made of paper. "You'll fucking get one." 

He charged in. 

Aly blocked desperately, keeping both hands on the hilt. The barrage of Godbrand's blows forced her back. He snarled profanities at her. His eyes were wild and his blade made sparks as it sliced against Aly's own. 

Aly gasped as her backsteps brought her heel to the edge of the bed frame. 

Godbrand cackled. He bared his teeth at Aly. "Gotcha." He raised his sword overhead and brought it down in a punishing arc.

Aly sidestepped a second too late. The dull metal swing came with a splintering of wood and pain. Steel bit deep into her shoulder. She screamed and fell backwards onto the bed.

"No!" Lisa screamed. Cold hands caught Aly as she fell. Lisa cradled her, frantically feeling the gash in her shoulder. Blood seeped out onto Aly's bodice and Lisa's hands. Something about the desperate fear in Lisa's voice spoke to Aly through the stunning pain. It centered her. 

"Godbrand, please," Lisa said.

Aly looked up. Godbrand cackled. He stepped over her and put his blade at her throat. He arched his arm back, ready to strike. 

"Go ahead, boy," Godbrand said, "Beg."

Aly stared blankly up at him. "Fuck you."

Steel flashed forward. Lisa called out. Aly braced herself. At the last moment, she found some responsiveness in her pain overwhelmed arm. She forced her hands up. Not to block this time. Her silver sword snaked in and hooked into the curve of Godbrand's hilt. She cried out and pulled and forced the blade out of Godbrands hands.

The steel broadsword clattered out of Godbrand's grip. He swore. Before he could reach for it again, he froze. Aly had gotten her blade under his chin.

"Well shit," Godbrand sneered, "Do it, then."

Aly gritted her teeth. Her blade trembled slightly. With her free arm, she cradled her bleeding shoulder. Could she do it? If her life was on the line? If Lisa's life was on the line? If she had to?

"No," Godbrand said. He brushed the rapier away from his throat. Then he reached forward. He grabbed Aly's wrist. "No, you just can't fucking do it, can you?"

Aly screamed. Godbrand had jerked her injured arm, forcing her forward. The silver sword fell from her senseless and tingling fingers. He kicked her stomach and Aly collapsed. She heard Lisa struggling behind her- fighting with the covers and rising on numb feet.

"But I can," Godbrand said. Aly lay curled around herself underneath him. He spoke into her ear. He grabbed her braid in one hand and put his other around her neck. "I'll fucking throttle you."

Aly gasped. Godbrand's knife-like nails gouged her throat. He picked her up, shook her, and squeezed the vital pumps of her jugular. Aly unclenched her good arm from her bleeding shoulder and gripped Godbrand's arm, trying to get him to let go. 

Aly's vision smeared. Lisa started to pray, and the words echoed strangely in her brain. Godbrand hissed. He cinched tighter around Aly's neck and she spluttered. His other hand snapped out. He struck Lisa on the chest and she fell back. Aly heard her head crack on the wall.

"N-no," Aly said. She slapped weakly at Godbrand's arm. Her pulse was overwhelming in her ears. Bright spots shot through her vision. Her head lolled forward and she fell into the light.

From a world away, Aly heard a door creak open. New energy crackled through the room. Aly forced her eyes open. She looked up. A figure like a great shadow towered over both of them. His grey, sharp-nailed hand fell on Godbrand's shoulder

"Godbrand," a commanding man's voice called out, "Unhand my daughter."

Godbrand snarled. His hand sunk harder. His nails gouged deep into Aly's neck. Aly whimpered. Her hand fell from Godbrand's arm. His other arm, raised like a threat, might as well have been a sword swinging down to strike.

Except Dracula stopped him, catching his arm and keeping him at bay. "I said. Let her go."

Godbrand ripped into Aly's neck with his free hand. She felt blood flowing, soaking her collar and dress. The world was blurring, sinking into itself and turning sluggish as though caught in deep mud.

"Godbrand!" Dracula barked.

Over the thumping of her own, weak pulse in her ears, Aly heard something strange. There was a gasp, and then a splutter that might have contained a last curse.

It wasn't that the iron grip around her throat loosened. Instead, it disintegrated. Little flecks of ash tickled Aly's bruised and bloodied neck. Air flooded back into her lungs. With nothing holding her up, Aly fell forward, gasping. She was still clutching her shoulder in a death grip. Now, the magic in her blood could do its work. Her injured shoulder knit itself together under her hand. Her lungs and busted throat became less painful as she dragged in breaths.

Dust flooded into Aly's mouth. She coughed. She spat ash and phlegm onto the floor and winced. She uncurled her hand from her shoulder. It twinged, and she felt blood caked on her fingers. She wiped her mouth clean.

"Aly? Are you-?" A low voice asked. It sounded strange twinged with concern.

A hand rested on Aly's uninjured shoulder. She gulped and raised her head. She recognized the grey face above her, now calm and concerned instead of drawn in heavy lines of fear and rage. There was the long, strong jaw that she hated so much in her own reflection. He had the same nose. She looked into his eyes and was relieved to find them black, instead of gold.

They were not the same. She was not him. She was not his son.

"Don't touch me," Aly said.

Dracula blinked. He withdrew his hand.

Aly raised her head. Dracula was a towering shadow above her. He was terrifying. Ash floated down from his hands. He was a monster. But he hadn't tried to hurt her, when she was in a state now where he could kill her easily. 

Aly gulped. She didn't understand what was going on. She gaped up at Dracula, and then she heard a low, rattling breath to her right. Aly looked over, and saw her mother collapsed on the ground.

Aly flew to her side. She pressed Lisa into a hug and forgot everything else. She was real. She was solid. Even if she was cold- still far too cold- Aly heard her steady, strong heart. She squeezed her with a small sob.

Aly pressed her hand to the back of Lisa's head. There was a small bump on her crown. Aly gritted her teeth, remembering how Godbrand had smacked her into the wall. She held her more tightly and closed her eyes, swallowing down panic.

She needed to get Lisa out of here, warm her up, get her something to eat and drink. She tried to pick her up and gasped in pain. Her shoulder was not whole yet. She couldn't lift Lisa on her own. 

Nearby, someone took an uncertain step forward. Aly turned around and froze. She stared at the figure standing in the doorway, as still as any other shadow. Dracula looked from his wife to his daughter. He gulped.

Aly held her breath. She wanted to hold her mother more tightly-- even shield her. But she was afraid to move. She couldn't beat him, outrun him or outwit him. He stood paralyzed, and she was certain he would lunge if she tried to move.

When Dracula finally spoke, his voice was harsh like gravel. "What have I done?" he asked. He started forward. Aly flinched and summoned the silver sword to her hand. It shook in her grip. But he merely sank to his knees in front of her, putting them almost at eye level. He looked down at his hands. 

"I-- almost killed both of you."

"W-why haven't you?" Aly said.

"I made a terrible mistake," Dracula said, "The youngest Belmont has been- very informative."

"Trevor?" Aly said. She took an involuntary step forward. "Is he okay?"

"He's-" Dracula started. He paused. One of his pointed ears flicked, and he turned his head to the door.

Aly heard it too; loud running and heavy breathing. She held more tightly to Lisa, who stirred slightly in her arms.

Dracula's lip twitched. He brought his arm back and opened the door with a dramatic flourish.

"Shit!"

Trevor hurtled through the door. He skidded to a stop between Aly and Dracula, and put his hands on his knees, panting.

Dracula raised an eyebrow. "Apparently, he was well enough to follow me."

"Trevor?" Aly asked. "Are you-?"

"This castle. Is. A goddamned maze," Trevor panted. He took a deep breath and looked over at Aly. His mouth fell open. "Aly-" he started. He reached forward, extending a hand. Then he stopped himself, as though he was afraid to touch the tender marks on her neck. His eyes went hard.

He rounded on Dracula. "You bastard. You said you wouldn't fucking hurt her."

Dracula straightened to his full height. "I haven't laid a hand on her, Belmont. Nor will I."

"Then what the hell is-" Trevor said. He gestured at Aly's collar.

"It was Godbrand, Trevor," Aly said. She gritted her teeth. Her throat, neck and shoulder ached. Lisa was practically unconscious in her arms. "Can you help?"

"And where is he now?" Trevor asked. He cracked his knuckles and looked around, as though he expected Godbrand to pop out from under the bed or leap from the cupboards.

Aly sighed. "He's dead."

"What?" Trevor asked. He seemed to finally notice the ash he was kicking up off the floor. "You killed him?"

"No," Aly said. She shook her head and jabbed a finger at Dracula. "He did."

Trevor looked back at Dracula. "Why?"

Dracula grimaced. "Belmont. I believe you will find rooms more to your liking down the hall."

"More to my-?" Trevor asked. 

Aly cleared her throat and stepped towards him. She could barely keep Lisa upright.

"Oh," Trevor said. He twisted around and gingerly lifted Lisa into his arms. He adjusted his grip under Lisa's legs. Her head lolled on his shoulder. She mumbled "Aly."

"You expect me to just leave you two?" Trevor growled.

Aly reached forward and squeezed his shoulder. "I'll just be a moment, Trevor. Promise."

Trevor gulped. "Okay. Just- be careful." 

He gave Dracula a last glare, and started for the door.

"Of course," Aly said. She held the door for them. Lisa seemed to have fallen asleep in his arms. Aly worried, but color was coming back into her face, and her breathing was more even. As they passed, her cold hand caught a fold of Aly's dress. 

"Don't," Lisa rasped, "Don't let him--"

Aly gently unlatched her fingers. She held them for a moment. "I won't, Mother. It'll be okay." She let go, and looked to Trevor.

"Warm her up," she said, "and get her something to drink."

"Right," Trevor said. He walked out. 

"I mean water," Aly called after him, "Not alcohol."

"Fine," Trevor said. He waved a hand in acknowledgement.

Aly shook her head. She closed the door behind him. She pressed her forehead to the wooden door. She wanted to follow them. But there was something to attend to first.

"Well. He's certainly loyal to you," Dracula said at last.

Aly sighed. She turned around. "Do you have any idea what you've put us through? What she's suffered? What- what I've suffered?"

"I- I do not."

"You can't fathom it," Aly spat.

"No," Dracula said. He crossed the bed and sat on it, looking suddenly ancient and tired. "I'm certain I can't."

Aly leaned on the wall. She folded her arms, a veiled way to cradle her still spasming shoulder. Finally, she could look down on him. "Do you know who I am?"

"A dhampir?" Dracula asked his hands, "A budding doctor, and a fine botanist?"

"That's not what I'm asking," Aly said.

Dracula gulped. He raised his head. His eyes were black and clear and mournful. "You are- my daughter. If only in name."

"I don't want your name," Aly said, "All I want- all my mother or I has ever wanted, from you, is to be left alone."

"I- I understand."

"Do you?!" Aly asked, "Do you understand what that means? You'll relinquish any claim you have on her? You'll let us go-- and not follow, or send your lackeys after us?" 

Dracula flinched. "Yes."

"You'll send your demons back to hell? Order your generals to return to their homelands?" Aly asked. She stepped forward, and stood over him.

"Of course," Dracula said. He met her gaze steadily.

Aly leaned in and hissed, "And you'll let the Belmont's go?"

Dracula grimaced. 

"You will let them go," Aly said. 

Dracula held up both hands, and nodded slightly in surrender. "Fine. Although, I cannot understand how you ended up allied to their youngest. He is-- unrefined."

"He is brave and compassionate and accepting and has protected me the way you were supposed to," Aly said.

Dracula sighed. "I suppose- that is true. I have been worse, far worse, than a poor guardian for you. I have utterly failed. I," he started. 

Aly retreated. Leaning over made her feel dizzy. She wanted to rest. She wanted to hold her mother in her arms and make sure that she was okay. 

He gulped. "I am sorry."

Aly raised an eyebrow. She considered him- actually made herself look at this man who'd made the past month of her life absolute hell. He represented everything she disliked in herself, including her pride. And he sat slumped with his elbows on his knees, his head fallen back down. He'd apologized. If she was honest with herself, Aly hadn't imagined that was possible.

"Aly," Dracula said, testing each sound of her name, "I suppose it would be useless for me to offer you a home." 

Aly starred at the man in wretched disbelief. She shook her head, speaking mechanically. "A- a home? Are you mad?"

"I thought not," said Dracula, giving her a small smile, "But there are certain obligations."

"Consider yourself relieved. I don't need another father."

"I offer you all that I have. The treasures of this castle. My knowledge of the world- of the true science."

"I'm not interested."

"I could teach you how to use your gifts," Dracula said.

Aly wrinkled her nose. "Gifts? Like the curse you gave me?"

"It is far more than just a curse," Dracula said. He raised one hand and splayed his eerie, long fingers. "You've already discovered some of it. You can teleport. I can teach you how to do it effortlessly. But you have far more than just that if there was someone who could show you how."

Aly stood. "You don't listen, do you?" she snapped.

"Shapeshifting."

Aly froze. She felt the blood rush to her face. She wanted to sneer, to try out one of Trevor's rude gestures at him. But she couldn't bring herself to respond. He continued.

"Your nature is mutable. Such a thing should be easy for you."

"I-" Aly stammered. She furrowed her brow. She didn't appreciate him puzzling out how to tempt her. 

Dracula stood, and gave her a small smile. "You do not have to decide now. If there is one thing we have, it's time." He reached out and gave her shoulder a small squeeze. "Well, you have time. I have much to do, if I wish to keep my word tonight."

"See to it," Aly said, letting her voice turn cold again. She watched him walk out of the room. His cape flicked through the door and he was done.

Aly allowed herself one moment. She wrapped her arms around herself and sank to the floor. She trembled senselessly for a moment, not quite crying, nor laughing, nor falling into hysterics, but on the verge of all three at once.

Her mother was alive.

Trevor was here.

Godbrand was dead.

Dracula had called her by her name.

But there was still so much to be done. She straightened, brushed ash from her ruined dress, and went to find Trevor and Lisa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aly gets to finally talk to her dad. Lisa is alive. And Trevor makes a dramatic, awkward entrance.
> 
> Just wanna be clear. Godbrand is very dead now. 
> 
> And, turns out we're gonna need one more chapter to wrap up some loose ends, get some much needed closure for Aly, and make sure the Belmonts are okay. So, expect one more chapter next week! Thanks for reading (and comments and kudos) everyone!


	13. Healing

It was more a laboratory than an infirmary, but it was almost tolerable in the daylight. Wide windows bathed the open hall in faint light. Trevor had found a bed to place Lisa on. She lay comfortably in the light. She'd kept down the water Trevor and Aly had given her.

Aly was less comfortable. The daylight assaulted her eyes. But she tucked the blanket over her mother and lingered for one moment, saying a small prayer.

"I'll be back," Aly said. She straightened up and turned back towards the dark hall. 

Trevor met her in the hallway. "I, uhh, found bandages. And some herbs, I think."

"It'll do," Aly said, "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Oh, this is a terrible idea," Trevor said. He started down the hall and gestured for Aly to follow him. "But you're the closest thing we've got to a doctor right now."

"I'll do my best," Aly said wearily. Her neck and shoulder were still very tender, and she hated that she was leaving Lisa alone, even if she was bathed in the safety of sunlight.

"Right," Trevor said, "Just, uhh, act natural."

He got to the door at the end of the hall and knocked. "Father? There's someone here I'd like you to meet- again."

 

The following hours were full of so much wound cleaning and bandaging that Aly barely noticed the suspicious looks or the way that the Belmont's flinched away from her touch. 

They were in bad shape. Trevor's uncle had a mangled arm that appeared to be broken and his eldest brother- Petru or George, Aly could not remember which- was feverish from blood loss and an infected wound on his stomach. 

Aly patched them up as best she could, and sent Trevor out for water and salves multiple times. On the third occasion, Trevor returned not just with supplies, but with food and a flask of something that reeked to Aly's delicate nose. 

His brothers who were well enough to raid the larder went after him. Lord Belmont did not. He stayed in the large medical room, sitting near his brother, who was sleeping with his splinted arm cradled.

"You used us," he said.

Aly fumbled with the bandages around Petru's stomach. She gulped. "Pardon?"

"You, and your mother, roped us into a family conflict," he said. He stood up with a groan and stepped towards her. "You wanted us to kill Dracula for you."

"Isn't that your job?" Aly said.

Lord Belmont grimaced. Based on the way he was holding his side, that might have been from pain. He reached the other side of Petru's bed and leaned against it. "My job? Yes. My sons who are old enough- fine. I couldn't have stopped them. But Trevor?"

Aly gulped.

"He was never supposed to get involved. And you dragged him in. You bit him."

Aly looked up and met his eyes. She faced his anger blankly. "Yes. I did. And I regret it. Are you going to kill me?"

"No," Lord Belmont said. He sighed. "I appreciate what you have done. We do not require any more help. Stay away from my son."

He seemed to want to say more. But they both heard loud footsteps as Belmonts returned. Lord Belmont shook his head and limped back to his chair. He had settled in by the time his sons walked through the door. They brought back even more food- and another flask. 

Aly sighed. She tied a last knot into the bandage around Petru's chest. She stood up and shook out her skirt. 

"Trevor?" she called.

Trevor looked through the door. His mouth was stuffed full of bread. He swallowed, and spoke mostly coherently. "Do you need any help?"

"I've done what I can. See if you can get Petru to eat something. Can I have some, umm," she paused and eyed the food that Trevor held. "Bread, please?"

"Of course," Trevor said. He gestured at the table and chairs assembled in the room. "Join us. Rest."

Aly winced. He couldn't see the way his brothers were glaring at her behind him. "Trevor, I can't- this is for Lisa. She'll need something to eat, when she gets up. I want to check on her."

"Oh, yeah, right," Trevor said.

One of Trevor's brothers eyed her coldly. "So you're a blood drinker, then?"

Aly gulped. She grabbed the loaf Trevor offered her and backed away. She turned and made for the door, but still heard Trevor hiss, "Istavan, would you kindly fuck off?"

"Unbelievable. Trevor- are you really into a--"

Aly got through the door before she heard the rest. She hurried down the hall too fast, fleeing towards her mother's room. She got to the door and realized she was shaking. No. This was fine. This was enough. Of course the Belmonts hated her. At least they weren't trying to kill her. This was an improvement. 

She went through the door, wincing at the light. It was better, than being surrounded by the Belmont's and their discomfort if not outright hostility. 

A hoarse voice called Aly's name. Aly hurried forward, grabbed her mother's hand, and put aside everything else.

"Aly," her mother repeated. She gripped her fingers back. 

"Here," Aly said. She grabbed a pitcher off the side table and poured her a cup. She pressed it into Lisa's hands. "Drink, please."

Lisa nodded. She drank deeply. Water dribbled off the corners of her mouth. Aly supported her back and practically felt her rehydrating. Aly refilled the cup twice, and offered a third. Lisa put up a hand to indicate that she had had enough.

Aly placed the cup where she could reach it. She gulped. "Mother, are you-- umm-- I have bread?" She presented the loaf wearily.

"It can wait," Lisa said. 

"Right," Aly said. She set the food aside.

"Can you forgive me?" 

"What?" Aly said. She turned to her mother and starred. "Forgive you?"

"I never warned you," Lisa said, "I should have known that he would find us out eventually. I tried to hide you, when I needed to prepare you."

Aly shook her head. "It's okay. It's okay. We made it."

Lisa raised a hand. Her eyes seemed to be refocusing. She reached out and pressed her fingers to the side of Aly's neck. Could she see the purple, crescent marks on her skin? Could she miss the rusty stain that had soaked into Aly's collar?

"I've ruined another dress," Aly said.

Lisa's lip twitched. "We'll get you a new one. Was this Vla- Dracula?"

Aly shook her head. "Godbrand. Dracula- I think he's started to understand. I hope so."

"I am so sorry."

Aly took Lisa's hand and pressed it to her forehead. "No. Please don't be sorry. I was almost too late. I almost lost you. How," she shook her head, and tried to think like a doctor, "How are you feeling?"

"Hungry," Lisa admitted.

"We can fix that."

 

Once evening descended, someone knocked at the door. It was a quiet tap, not loud enough to wake Lisa.

Aly sighed. She'd expected this. She stretched out her hand, trying to summon her blade. The sword slid off the table- and promptly fell to the floor. Aly rolled her eyes. She swiped it off the ground and opened the door.

The figure bathed in darkness from the hallway was slighter than Dracula. She and Aly were almost the same height.

"This, I believe, is yours," Raman said. She produced the scabbard.

Aly blinked. She took the scabbard. She considered it, and then looked at Raman. "I thought Dracula had sent you away."

"He has," Raman said, "But I am his second in command, not his thrall. And it seemed better to return this in person."

"So you'll bend his rules-- but not to stop him turning my mother, or almost killing innocents."

Raman wrinkled her nose. "Belmonts aren't innocents."

"Right," Aly said. She started closing the door. "Thanks for the scabbard. Please go."

A hand flew in and stopped the door before it closed. "Wait."

Aly sighed. She was tired, so tired she might actually try to curl up in a bed and just close her eyes. If she slammed the door as hard as she could, would it break Raman's fingers? For one malicious moment, Aly let that tempt her. Then she opened the door.

"Yes?"

"You needn't learn from him, you know."

Aly rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry. Yesterday, you were trying to kill me. Now- what- you're offering an apprenticeship?"

Raman shook her head. "Merely, if this castle and the company of so many men is distasteful. I have a palace."

"Good for you," Aly said.

She made to close the door again. This time, Raman caught the knob, keeping it open. 

"You understand you are not free of this yet, no? Him accepting you- acknowledging you- you think the Belmonts will suffer it?"

Aly eyed her coldly. "Please leave," she said. She slammed the door.

 

Lisa's condition improved quickly. The shock wore off. A healthy glow returned to her face. She was up on her feet on the second morning, and helping the Belmonts by the third.

With Lisa well and Trevor constantly surrounded by his defensive family, Aly found herself with nothing to do.

She'd thought she wanted rest. Space, peace and quiet; this is what she needed right?

Aly wandered the empty hallways. It was strange to feel the emptiness of the castle. It was almost beautiful now, and certainly grand. But she still disliked the ambiance of it. Too many hidden doors and passages that went nowhere. Too many hollow-eyed portraits and rusty stains on the tapestries.

Then she found the library. That, finally, Aly could lose herself in. Whatever else she thought of him, and he'd occupied her anxieties since he'd disappeared the evening she'd found Lisa, Dracula had fair taste in books.

Aly found a taxonomy of local flowers complete with illustrations. She settled into a chair and simply read for a time, her fingers tracing the diagrams as though they were the delicate wings of a moth.

She pursed her lip. She didn't belong. And she would belong so much less if she accepted a vampire's mentorship. Any vampire's mentorship. Meanwhile, Raman had hit upon the crux of the problem. She couldn't go back to hiding.

Aly sighed aloud. She closed the book and looked up. Her neck was stiff. How long had it been?

Long enough for the bold daylight to turn to grey shadows around her. Aly gulped. She stood up. Suddenly, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She held the book to her body and looked around. Was it the long, reaching panels of darkness that made the bookshelves look unfamiliar? She squinted up the hall, and then back down. Which way had she come? She couldn't remember.

"Aly?" a low, powerful voice called.

Aly hissed. She stepped backward. She tried to summon her silver sword, that now felt alien and unresponsive in its scabbard at her hip. It slithered in the sheath, but didn't meet her fingers. She cursed under her breath and drew it by hand.

"Yes?"

"I didn't mean to disturb you," Dracula said. He descended the steps and sat on the last one. He was greyscale in the moonlight. He propped his head in his hands, looked up at her, and raised a brow.

"Is she well?" he asked.

"Lisa?" Aly asked. She nodded. "She's going better. But-"

"But? Is something wrong?"

Aly shook her head. She sat back down heavily. She resheathed the sword and let her shoulders slump. "She's just- pushing herself too hard, caretaking the Belmonts. She should be resting. I- I should be the one helping- them. And instead I'm- here."

"Instead, you've wandered into the library?" Dracula said, almost gently.

Aly nodded. 

"What are you reading?"

Aly handed over the book when he extended his hand. He opened it deftly and turned a couple pages. He nodded. "A good choice," Dracula said. He closed it and offered it back. "I have a few other taxonomies that might be of interest to you."

"No," Aly said, too quickly, "I mean- that won't be necessary, thank you. Not tonight." She stood up, brushed out the folds of her dress, and winced. She was still wearing the one that had been ripped and rended in several places. She'd done her best with the collar, but there were still brown stains in the lace.

Dracula looked at her. His expression was oddly blank- as colorless as his face in the moonlight.

"Would you like something new to wear?" he asked.

Aly sighed.

"I may have something that would fit you, in storage."

"That would be nice," Aly admitted.

 

Dracula led her down a long spiral staircase that stretched like a spine through the castle's center. They walked in silence for a while. Then he spoke.

"Have they tried to hurt you, then?"

"I'm sorry?" Aly asked.

Dracula's cloak flapped, showing his irritation. Aly saw his fist curl.

"The Belmonts. Have they hurt you?"

Aly gulped. She recalled the suspicious looks and Lord Belmonts declaration. A cold draft flew up the stairs past her. She shivered. "No."

"But they are still distrustful. Hostile, even. They do not appreciate that your mercy is all that has freed them from my dungeons."

"Trevor protected me. He is- was- kind to me."

"He is still a Belmont."

Aly gritted her teeth. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I cannot forgive Lisa for putting you under the dubious protection of our enemies. That the Belmonts even know of you is an unacceptable-"

"My mother did her best," Aly spat.

Dracula sighed. He finally reached the landing. They must be underground by now. He opened a large, wooden door.

"I know," he conceded, "But if I had- realized, I could have protected you far better. You wouldn't have ended up at the end of Lord Belmont's sword."

Aly snorted. "You tried to kill me too."

"I was mistaken. Gravely mistaken.”

"That's not-"

“I know you must hate me for what I have done. And I know Lisa will never accept my protection. But I wish you to know I am truly sorry for the pain I have brought upon your-- family.”

Aly paused. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. This world’s oldest evil had just apologized to her. She felt something overwhelming rising up from her stomach into her throat. She swallowed.

"There is much I owe you two,” he continued. “And I will gladly give any reparations you can accept, however little that may be. At the very least, you should know how to protect yourself. And protect her."

"P-protect her?" 

"A solitary woman brewing remedies?" he said, "How long before someone starts to talk? Or do men not burn witches anymore?"

Aly squeezed her eyes shut. "No," she said. That talk had already started. Lord Demetriscue's influence was all that had kept them safe before and now-? Cold panic welled up in Aly's chest.

"How- how can I-?"

"Come with me," Dracula said gently.

Aly opened her eyes. He bowed to her and gestured for the dimly lit room in front of them.

Aly stepped over the threshold. It was a musty old room, far from the windows and the light of day at the edges of the castle. But it was also grand. Broad, powerful columns arched to either side of a sumptuous red carpet draped across the floor. Lights buzzed on, not blue but pure white. The glow caught on gold gilt ahead of her. It flashed overwhelmingly. Aly blinked. She adjusted her eyes and looked forward.

The gold gilt belonged to an intricate pattern on an altar that gleamed in front of them. Gears ground, and the altar tilted forward. Aly shivered. Whatever this was, it didn't hum with holy energy the way a church altar would. 

A hinge creaked. The altar shifted. It opened. Now Aly saw it for what it was. This was not a solid, stone structure, but an empty box, large enough to fit a person inside.

Or, not a person. Something like a person. Something roughly human in shape. Something that had been human. The red insides of the coffin semed to drip with blood. They called to her.

"You have never slept, have you?" Dracula said.

Aly turned to him. She gripped the hilt of her silver sword. Whatever this was, it was definitely not a storage room. 

Dracula shook his head. "That is- incomprehensible to me. You have worked yourself past the point of exhaustion. You should rest."

Aly shivered. "You want to make me a monster."

"A monster?" Dracula said. His lip twitched. "I want to unlock your potential and keep you safe."

"I can't-" Aly said. She choked on the words.

Dracula stepped towards her. "They already believe you are a monster. You should at least be able to protect yourself like one."

"No," Aly said. She shook her head. She stepped past Dracula. "I won't. I'm leaving."

She got three steps in before a black shadow formed in front of her. Dracula loomed. He looked down at her and his face was as cold and dead as a mask.

"You cannot understand what you are denying yourself," he said.

"Let me pass," Aly said. She started to draw her blade. "You gave me your word."

Dracula sighed. He lunged forward and grabbed her arm, keeping her from unsheathing her blade. "And I will break it, if that is what I must do to protect you."

"I don't need your protection."

"Then jaunt out of my hold," Dracula said. His eyes bore down on her. Aly struggled in his grip. It was more like stone than steel. "Or repel me with a spell. Or summon your sword to your other hand."

Aly hissed. She closed her eyes and tried to feel red clouding her vision. She tried to hear the silver sword calling her name. It was silent. She opened her eyes and the room was still gold. She hadn't moved. Dracula towered over her.

"No," Dracula said, "You need training. You need blood. But first- first- you need rest."

He twisted her around as though she was a porcelain limbed doll. He held her arms and marched her forward, towards the coffin. Now, Aly saw glass vats full of dark red liquid behind the open box.

"No!" Aly called. She struggled. She kicked backwards. She screamed. "You can't- Lisa- Trevor- they'll look for me."

"They will," Dracula agreed, "And they will find you- or, at least, a far more amenable copy."

"W-what?" Aly demanded.

Dracula took advantage of her confusion. He lifted her into the coffin.

Aly gasped. The red insides hummed and pulsed around her. They brushed her face and stomach, arms and knees as she fell in. They left a feeling of tingling numbness wherever they made contact.

Aly fought it. She twisted, forcing herself around. She tried to rise and Dracula held her down.

"Y-you won't," Aly started. Her words sounded strange and slurred. "You can't."

"I already have," Dracula said.

Aly's struggled weakened. Her eyelids felt heavy. The air was congealing, dense around her vaguely struggling limbs. She jerked forward once more. Dracula eased her back. He pressed her head to the raised pillow in the coffin. He had the gall to look concerned. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"They'll- find- me," Aly said.

Behind Dracula, something else moved. 

Aly's sleepy brain barely registered what she was seeing. The bat winged, humanoid creature was wearing a copy of Aly's stained and ripped dress. As she watched from under drooping eyelids, the succubus transformed herself. This time, she didn't just copy Aly's gold hair and eyes, or her grey skin. She imitated Aly's strong jaw, her slight hips and chest. Not a cruel parody then, but an actual, deadly imitation.

"My lord?" the succubus asked in Aly's voice.

"Very good," Dracula said. He turned back to the coffin. "My daughter. Sleep well."

"N- n- no-," Aly mumbled.

Dracula sighed. "Someday, you will thank me for this." He stepped forward. He took the heavy lid and closed it over Aly.

 

What was darkness? Aly had never encountered it before, she realized. Even in the longest hours of the night, she could still see details, depth and complexity. Shadows couldn't hide the world from her. That, too, was part of this curse that Dracula thought was a gift to her.

Now, darkness assaulted her eyes because there was nothing to look at. She saw nothing because there was nothing to see except the pulsing, red insides of a death box.

A womb, she thought. She wretched. She was trapped in a womb, among blood and surrounded by pulsing, red flesh. And when she was finally released, she'd be reborn. Would she even know herself? If she closed her eyes and gave into the sleep that called at her as irresistible as the strongest, numbing drugs, if she fell into it, how long would she drift? Would Lisa still be alive when she finally woke up?

Would she ever see her again? See Trevor again? Would she recognize them?

"P-please," Aly said. She ripped herself out of the deathly hold of the pulsing, red promise of rest. She slammed her fists into the lid. Pain mingled with numbness. The stone was too heavy, the pull of exhaustion already too strong on her limbs.

Was this- was this where she really belonged? Aly leaned forward and pressed her forehead to the coffin lid. Her eyes leaked more blood into the dense air.

"P-please," Aly sobbed. She slammed her hands and forehead into the stone. "P-please- I can't."

She was so tired of fighting. She was so tired. So tired.

Was she still pounding her fists into the lid? She couldn't feel her arms anymore to tell. But she heard it vaguely- a slam that sounded more like flesh on wood than on stone. It came again and again. She clung to it, a sound to keep her from oblivion.

She was losing it already. She heard distant, distorted voices. How could anyone find her sealed away in a hidden room at the base of an impossible staircase? If she had just stayed at her mother's side, remained safe, accepted her protection-

Aly rasped. Tears dripped down her cheeks. If she had just stayed hidden on that first damn night. Maybe Lisa could have fought off Godbrand on her own. She would have never been found out. Not by Dracula. Not by Belmonts.

She and Trevor would never have met. She wouldn't have discovered the silver sword, or these strange powers. She wouldn't have gotten to go on a strange journey. She wouldn't have learned any of Trevor's creative applications of profanity.

She would never have met her father, had the frightening and glorified idea of the great warlord Dracula replaced by the cowardly, hollow man she saw him for now. 

Aly drew in a long breath that smelled like blood. Blood was all around her. Sleep called.

No. Even if it had all gone some other way, Lisa would not have been able to hide her forever. Any number of different disasters would have struck instead. Aly practically heard angry yelling outside the coffin. It would have been a church processional, or an enraged mob, or a swarm of demons. Something would have some for them eventually. She would have been found out. 

M-maybe this was for the best. She would wake up stronger, maybe even strong enough to keep herself safe. Maybe even strong enough that she'd get to see Lisa again. Trevor again.

M-maybe if she gave in and slept, she'd get to see her mother sooner.

Aly's eyes closed. She sank back. She heard scrapping and shouting- even felt footsteps nearby through the numbness. It was all senseless and far away. It made no sense. She was alone. She was. Very. Tired.

She was ready. To sleep.

Heavy stone crashed to the floor near her. Gold light and clear air assaulted her senses.

Aly blinked. She gasped and gagged for air. Lisa took one of her hands. Trevor took the other.

"Are you okay?!" Lisa asked. Her eyes were wide and blue like a clear, painful sky at noon. "Aly? Did- did you want to sleep?"

"N-no," Aly rasped.

"Bastard," Trevor swore. He squeezed Aly's hand.

Aly winced. Her hands were raw from where she'd slammed them into the coffin lin.

Trevor let go immediately. He gulped. "I'm sorry."

Aly shook her head. She tried to rise. Lisa wrapped an arm under her back and helped her up. 

"I didn't mean to--" Trevor said, "I was supposed to protect you. I didn't think-- stupid. Stupid of me."

"No," Aly said. She shook her head, and the red, pulsing proximity of blood cleared from her vision. "Please, Trevor."

"You're okay?" Lisa asked. She grazed the marks on Aly's hands. She reached up and inspected her forehead. Aly guessed she had a similar, tender red spot there. It certainly felt like it. With the numbness leaving her body, she suddenly realized how hard she'd been struggling.

"Just bruised," Aly said. She shivered. "How-?" She tried to sit up, clutching the edges of the coffin for support. Trevor helped her out of the coffin. She left herself lean on him. 

"How did you find me?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"Bastard thought he could fool us with a demon," Trevor growled. But it was Lisa who spoke with real vitriol. She looked away from Aly and took a step back towards the center of the room. There was a group of people clustered around the decadent, red carpet.

Aly blinked. Dracula stood in the center of a circle of Belmonts. He held his arms up almost lazily, despite the five weapons drawn on him.

"You think I don't know my own daughter?" Lisa demanded.

Dracula looked at her. "I could have helped her in ways no human could."

Aly shuddered. 

"It's okay," Trevor whispered. He pulled Aly into a hug. "No one is going to hurt you. I won't let them."

"Aly," Dracula called out, "You have a gift. Do not squander it."

Aly didn't raise her head from Trevor's shoulder. But she did raise a hand. She made a gesture at him that she'd seen Trevor make before.

Dracula hissed. "Insolent child! You cannot understand what you are--"

His words devolved into a growl. Aly heard a scuffle. A Belmont swore. Aly held Trevor more tightly. 

Someone gasped. Aly raised her head. She saw Lisa step backwards, as though she could somehow shield both of them. Dracula froze. The beady black eyes in the grey face went wide.  
Lord Belmont had a crude piece of wood pressed over his heart. 

Lord Belmont cleared his throat. "Lisa and Alanna Demetriscue are under our protection- for as long as they wish it. Now, keep your word. Let us go."

"Lisa?" Dracula asked.

"It's over Vlad. Long over. Let it go."

His eyes moved past her. They settled on Trevor. "Belmont?"

Trevor grimaced. "Leave me out of this."

"Aly?" he asked. His voice had dropped to a carrying whisper, reasonable sounding and entrancing.

"Go fuck a stake," Aly said. 

Trevor squeezed her shoulder and she barely heard him hiss, "I'm so proud of you."

Dracula sighed. He dipped his head.

Lord Belmont raised the stake, preparing to strike.

Dracula vanished into mist. He was gone before the Belmonts could bring their weapons in. He was gone. 

"Damn," Lisa said. She sighed. She looked around the room, and then turned to Aly. "Let's go home."

Aly nodded. 

 

Lisa was the one who lead them out of the castle. After all, she was the one who had been here before. She was the one who had first knocked on the imposing door and met the strange man inside.

Aly shuddered as they stepped into the light. It was morning. She would accept the sunlight if it meant she was finally safe and free. She would bask in the slight discomfort of it if it meant she wasn't one of them, not a monster, not yet at least.

Lord Belmont squinted down the old, dusty road. It would be a long hike to Turia as they were-- Petru and Alexander still injured, Trevor with his tender ankle, Aly shocked and weary. But it was long passed time that they left the castle. 

"Here," Aly said. She put an arm around Trevor's shoulder. She took his hand and put it around her waist. "Get your weight off that ankle."

"You sure?" Trevor asked. 

Aly rolled her eyes. "Of course."

They staggered down the castle steps together. 

Their slow moving, weary party had barely started down the hill to reach the road when a screech started behind them. Lisa wheeled around. Belmonts drew their weapons. Even Aly reached for her sword. It flew to her fingers this time.

The castle creaked like it was being struck by a great windstorm. Gears groaned and shutters banged. Something crackled with electricity, and steam rose in a great column from one of the towers.

Aly gulped. It was alive. This castle eulogized Dracula in all his failures, all his cowardice and deceit-- it was monstrous in the way that he was monstrous, in all the ways that Aly didn't want to become. There was a cracking, crumbling sound. For a moment, Aly wondered if it was finally breaking under the weight of its masters sins- the old structure crucified by daylight.

And then it started to sink.

"My god," Lisa said.

Belmonts made holy symbols as the castle descended. Aly shivered. 

The last spire was swallowed up by the dirt before anyone spoke. 

"Good riddance," Lord Belmont said. He waved for them to continue.

Aly sighed. She focused on helping Trevor down the road.

"You alright?" Trevor asked quietly.

Aly shrugged. "Course I am. We survived. He's gone. This is- it's a miracle. I just-"

"What is it?" Trevor asked.

Aly looked at him. She felt her face heating up in the closest thing she could manage to a blush. "He'd offered to teach me. Now I'll never figure it out. I'll never be able to shapeshift."

"Why not?" Trevor said, "You figured out the whole hypnotism thing on you own. Why not this?"

Aly blinked. "Oh yeah. I- I guess you're right."

"Besides," Trevor said, "I like your shape."

Aly raised an eyebrow. "Very inappropriate, Belmont."

"It's true," Trevor shrugged, "You have really nice, uhh-"

Aly elbowed him in the stomach before he could finish his sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, done. Thanks for reading (and, for comments and kudos, ever and always!). 
> 
> I was having trouble figuring out how to end this fic. As fun as Aly, princess of hell would have been, it didn't really fit. Drac is still the villain, and Aly needed to earn the acceptance/ protection of humans (AKA the Belmonts) not the supernatural. Now she has that. They can all go home.


End file.
